


Concupiscent

by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee



Series: Concupiscent [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Universe, Consensual, Double Anal Penetration, Established Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Hints of Poly, Humor, M/M, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 03, Pseudo-Incest, Sex Pollen, Sweet/Hot, Threesome - M/M/M, Yep we're writing that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-11-24 05:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18162026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/pseuds/merrythoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyMissCoffee/pseuds/ReallyMissCoffee
Summary: "You could stop holding him back."Derek makes a small sound, unbidden. It must sound sufficiently shocked, because Peter's talking again before he can get a word in edgewise."The magic will hurt him if it's left alone for too long. Stiles isn't unaware of himself now. Focus will be difficult, but he's fully conscious of his actions. Stiles," Peter adds, and his tone changes. It warms slightly, and solidifies, clearly expecting Stiles' attention. "We talked about this. About the possibility. If you've changed your mind, that's fine. But I need to hear one way or the other."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When you want to dabble in the sex pollen trope and can't decide between Peter/Stiles or Derek/Stiles and decide that _both,_ of course! Both is good. The more the merrier and we shamelessly pair Peter with practically everyone, including Derek, so eh! (๑>◡<๑)
> 
> Chapter 1 sets up ze good stuff & mainly focuses on Derek/Stiles (but there's still a lot of feelsy Steter stuff!)  
> Chapter 2 is the actual threesome~
> 
> We had legit poly plans for them if we continue writing this and turn it into a series, but for now two chapters!
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : This is another merrythoughts & ReallyMissCoffee production. In case you don't know us, just a heads up: this is written first and foremost as an alternating roleplay between us which doesn't necessarily translate smoothly into an easily digestible or traditional fic format. At times we can be pretentious, repetitive and annoyingly wordy, but we're not going to change so please forgo any "constructive criticism" regarding the format. We are choosing to share our work and if you like it, you like it, if not, press the back button and try something else as we have no interest in attempting to fic-ify our stories.
> 
> Stiles written by Merry ([tumblr](http://merrythought.tumblr.com)) | Derek & Peter written by ReallyMissCoffee ([tumblr](http://reallymisscoffee.tumblr.com))
> 
>  ** _Concupiscent_** ; adj. 1. Lustful or sensual. 2. Eagerly desirous.

One day Stiles finds a wonky flower in the preserve somewhat near the Nemeton. Now, weird shit popping up in Beacon Hills usually means trouble of some kind, so of course Stiles has to investigate, okay? He may not be able to wolf out, but he's got brains and a phone. And anyway, he's pretty sure that he can handle a _flower._ He doesn't need to be a werewolf for this particular mission. He doesn't text Peter or Derek about his strange discovery. Instead, Stiles walks up to the exotic looking _thing_ to get a closer look.

The thing sort of resembles a big venus fly trap and by big, it's more the size of a bush but definitely not as giant as Audrey 2 or whatever in Little Shop of Horrors (god he can't imagine a giant-ass flower, this one is big enough as it is). It also has purple splotches on the green plant part which don't make sense. The "mouth" part is hot pink and is open.

Stiles knows better than to touch, so instead he takes a few pictures for research purposes. Maybe it's just some weird outlier. Maybe it's no big deal, but it kinda... Feels like it's something _more._ It's gotta be supernatural. The thing gives off a _vibe._ He's never had plant-vibes before either so Stiles thinks it's best to not ignore his instincts here.

He's on his knees in front of the plant, phone hovering nearby it's hot pink mouth of insect-eating doom when he sneezes. His phone is dropped and Stiles is gazing down at it in disappointment when the damn flower _sneezes_ too.

"What in the Nemeton-fuck!?" Stiles blurts out because his face is covered in some weird ass pollen or dust that just so happens to be gold in color as he's trying to rub it off quickly. The flower sneezed on him!?

Unlike Audrey 2, the flower doesn't answer or talk back. Stiles is left incredulous and slightly scared because sudden emissions of any kind are not good, especially from a wonky flower and now he's come into contact with it. Stiles tries to wipe himself off with his hoodie as best he can and then he's snatching his phone and tailing it out of there.

At the very least he has to report to Derek about the little flower mishap. He could simply send the photos with a blurb, but the loft is closer than his house and he plans on catching a shower because, say no to flower gunk.

Despite it being over a year, it's still a little weird to be dating Derek's uncle. That... it's a little tense with Scott still, but Derek at least seems to respect him enough. Yes, Stiles is aware that Peter is technically some zombie wolf who has tried to kill them, but that was _years_ ago. Peter had actually helped him out after the nogitsune. Turns out Peter knows a thing or two about panic and trauma...

Derek is home when he does tromp inside but Stiles silences him with a, "A flower just jizzed on me, I'll tell you about it after a shower."

Stiles showers the pollen or whatever off of himself. He never uses any of Derek's shower supplies, but as Peter sometimes stays over, there are a few expensive toiletries littering the bathroom and inside the shower and Stiles does help himself to those products. He's in the process of washing out the conditioner when he realizes he's actually hard.

Stiles sighs. Has it been a while since he got sex-freaky with Peter and he's now apparently hella easy because he smells Peter's soap and stuff?

Stiles isn't going to jerk off. That would be too weird. It'll go away if he does nothing. He's not even pent up.

The problem doesn't go away. Stiles feels more worked up and horny by the end of the shower. It hadn't even been a long shower but his face is flushed and as he re-dresses into boxers, jeans, and a t-shirt, Stiles feels like his _clothes_ are even turning him on. This is bonkers. He splashes some cold water on his face, willing his boner to go away because Derek likely can smell him already and if he steps out, he's going to get a snort and a comment and Stiles doesn't feel like getting either one of those.

Just thinking about Derek suddenly has his heart racing though. His cock throbs and Stiles flinches, supremely uncomfortable. Now, Derek is hotness personified, but Stiles hasn't wank-lusted after Derek in a year or so now. They're just pack and good friends... Something's gotta be wrong.

"D-Derek?" Stiles mumbles out, feeling a little dazed as he stumbles out of the bathroom. "I don't feel great? Now I know this is gonna sound stupid, but I'm _super horny_ and I don't know why and it's not going away and you know Peter and I have a healthy active sex-life so there's no reason for me to be... to be like this!"

* * *

Life in Beacon Hills is never predictable, but over the last few years, a lot of things have settled into place. Yes, there are plenty of contenders for 'weirdest thing to happen to the pack' but the days of running and ducking and fighting for dear life have slowly tapered off into occasional bouts of danger and low levels of inconvenience. Scott, much to Peter's fury, is actually a good Alpha.

Derek can admit that he hadn't been the best. He'd never _wanted_ to be Alpha. His place in the pack feels much more secure now; the stress isn't on him to keep everyone alive, but Scott still needs his advice more often than not, not being a born wolf. The others, despite a few issues here and there, have settled into a level of comfort that had been unthinkable before, and Derek's honestly relieved to see his pack - practically his family - growing so much together.

Isaac's grown into himself - despite the time he'd spent away to recover - and while Lydia still remains on the outskirts of the pack, she's still around more often than not. Stiles, despite... _certain issues_ , has become invaluable, even if he can still be irritating. Mostly Derek is just biased, because Stiles... he's still not sure how to _really_ normalize the fact that Stiles has been fucking his uncle. There are certain things in life that a guy doesn't need to focus on, and that's just one of them. Especially because they are the least subtle fuckers in existence. Derek can't count how many times Stiles has come to a meeting _reeking_ of sex and looking slightly sheepish. Given how satisfied Peter always looks, and how strained Scott does, Derek knows the timing is intentional.

But when the elevator to his loft dings that afternoon and Stiles steps out, he does _not_ , in fact, smell like Peter. In fact... Derek doesn't know _what_ Stiles smells like, to be honest. It's nothing he's used to. The scent of it feels kind of irritating, kind of like an itch that needs to be scratched. It's somewhat floral and heady, with a sickly sweetness under it, but before Derek can ask, Stiles is rushing on in with gusto, talking about a flower _jizzing_ on him, and... well, that'd explain the dust all over Stiles' clothes.

Derek doesn't get too close. There are a lot of unknowns when it comes to botany, and Derek's been on the receiving end of one too many handfuls of aconite powder to trust it. Stiles is gone before he can greet him, and Derek's left blinking after him, puzzling over the scent and the sudden interruption.

So, despite it being _Derek's_ loft, he does wind up waiting for Stiles, curious and a little annoyed that Stiles had swept in to steal his shower. Yet before Derek can really get into it, he's distracted by the scent that carefully drifts out from the bathroom. At first he doesn't get it, but when the _very_ familiar scent hits him, his nose wrinkles.

"God, _really,_ Stiles?" He grumbles, because Stiles' arousal is commonplace now.

He's tempted to text Peter to complain, but he's not willing to do that yet. It's just... the scent doesn't go away. Five minutes later, it's stronger, and a few more after that, it's even worse. Derek's trying really hard not to get weird about it when the bathroom door opens and Stiles - wet, clothed, with a _very_ obvious erection - steps out. Derek doesn't yell at him, but it's only because Stiles is staggering, and that's... not normal. Without thinking, he moves in close to steady Stiles, his brow furrowed. Stiles reeks of arousal, but there's that sickly-sweet scent on him still, something that - horrifyingly enough - makes Derek feel a little warm.

Stiles' overshare isn't surprising, but the fact that Stiles actually sounds distressed _is_. Derek stills - he'd been about to snap at Stiles for sharing too much - and then he looks Stiles over again, critically.

His pupils are blown, his skin flushed, and there's a fine tremor in Stiles' body that makes Derek uneasy. He leans in to scent him again, and it doesn't take him long to note the scent there. His frown deepens.

"If you're fucking with me, I will _end_ you," he warns flatly, because Derek is so not going to humor this if it's a prank. "But... that flower. You smell like _something_ still. Pollen? What--" Derek grimaces. "Should... I call Peter?"

* * *

This isn't what Stiles had been expecting. This isn't a logical or realistic outcome from coming into contact with strange botany. Stiles hadn't even touched the damn thing (which is displaying great growth from his younger days if he does say so himself). Then again, it hadn't just been _contact..._ The plant had practically attacked him for no good reason! When plants attack.... Only at Beacon Hills.

As perturbed as he might be, he's not exactly frightened. It's not like the nogitsune. It's not the dissociation or time loss or panic attacks. This is manageable. He's not hurting anyone, he's just supremely horny. Like _raging_. Not that raging horny is especially a good state to be in, but it can be taken care of. And Derek is here. Derek could do it! Yeah. Totally.

_Wait_. He shouldn't be thinking about doing _anything_ with Derek.

Derek looks grumpy (the usual) but as he comes nearer, the grump transitions into obvious concern, and while Stiles feels a little validated, the problem is still persisting. Derek, predictably threatens him, but this isn't some prank. Stiles wouldn't walk around and proclaim his boner-dom and try to screw with Derek. The claim that he smells weird makes sense because he does feel off. This isn't his usual kind of arousal. Not by a long shot. Stiles can feel it pound in his veins, hungry and demanding. It has him aching and hard like Peter's been edging him for _hours_.

"Yeah, call him," Stiles exclaims like it's obvious. Just thinking about Peter makes a wave of arousal slam into him and before he's thinking, he's sliding down onto his knees, his hands reaching to undo Derek's jeans. "While you do that, I _need_ to suck you," he explains in a hushed tone.

It's only when Derek's hands come to _stop_ him that he realizes what he's doing. "Motherfucker flower is turning me into a turbo slut!" Still, Stiles is fighting to try and get to Derek's dick. "I'm sorry, this obviously hadn't been my plan but please, I need to do something."

* * *

God, the scent of arousal is _overpowering_. Derek can't help the way it tickles at his senses, though he can absolutely claim to be _supremely_ uncomfortable with the way Stiles smells. The fact that Stiles is having sex with Peter is still weird to him, both because it's his _uncle, hello_ , but also because Stiles almost always smells like a low level of arousal, and it's just awkward because Derek knows how it's likely going to be resolved later.

Peter, for his part, has been amused out of his mind by Derek's apparent "prudishness" (which is completely unfair) but Derek's accepted it. He doesn't necessarily like it, because Stiles had always seemed to... but that's not important. What's important is this, right now, because Derek feels like he's intruding on something here. This isn't normal levels of Stiles being aroused.

He's already reaching for his phone by the time that Stiles replies, and he's got Peter's contact up on his phone when Derek realizes that Stiles is sliding to his knees. At first he's concerned that Stiles isn't _okay_ , and Derek hesitates, concerned. But then Stiles _speaks_ , and Derek... later, he'll claim that the way his brain kind of shorts out was completely justified, because there is _no way_ that Stiles just said that.

But hands reach for his jeans, and Derek's mind quickly restarts. " _Stiles!_ " He snaps, fumbling Stiles _away_ from his jeans with both hands. He's an odd mix of incredulous, irritated, and a little panicked. "What the fuck do you think you're _doing?"_ He demands.

Sucking his dick, apparently. Or trying to. Derek bats Stiles' hands away again when they come back in for a second try, and Derek's voice feels a little shrill when he snaps Stiles' name the next time. Finally, at a loss, Derek takes a wide step back with one foot to put some distance between them and presses back firmly on one of Stiles' shoulders. "Jesus fucking-- _stop_. I'll call Peter!"

And he does. Derek fumbles with his phone and calls his uncle, his pulse skipping. When it connects after a good four fucking rings (he hates Peter sometimes), he doesn't give his uncle a chance to be a smarmy ass.

"Peter! Get-- get here. Now. My loft."

"Hello to you too, Derek. To what do I owe the--"

"Shut up and get here! Jesus, your-- Stiles is-"

It's enough to erase a little of the teasing drawl from Peter's voice. Instead of the lazy smirk clearly heard, Peter hesitates. "What about Stiles? Is he all right?"

"He's not dead," Derek growls back, awkwardly shuffling back again. "He's fine. I think. Just-- he said something about a flower in the preserve, and he's-- God, no, here." Derek pauses, then hits the button for speakerphone and holds the phone down, closer to Stiles. "Here! Stiles, tell Peter what happened."

* * *

Later, this is going to be hella embarrassing. The small light at the end of the tunnel is that only Derek is here to witness his apparent sexual frenzy. Stiles may be known to get horny here and there - Peter doesn't help matters, the guy loves riling him up at inappropriate times like pack meetings - but Stiles isn't the type to behave outlandishly. He may admire Derek or even Isaac on an aesthetic level, but Stiles is actually content with Peter. More than a couple of times they've discussed the idea of a threesome (not within the pack), but nothing had come out of it and it hadn't been because either one of them had been dissatisfied.

Maybe Scott still has a hard time understanding that, but Stiles loves Peter. They may not be the traditional couple to root for, and yeah Peter is older than him, but Peter _gets_ him. Peter supports him. Under all the snark and feigned apathy, Peter isn't actually a bad guy. Misguided sometimes, sure, but that's been a lot better (you try to come out normal after being nearly burned alive and then stuck in a coma).

But here he is, grabbing at Derek like a toddler would with a shiny desired toy. In some part of his brain, Stiles knows this is a horrible and ridiculous thing to do. He does. And Derek is not cooperating, seemingly scandalized by his boldness and Derek is both strong and fast enough to stop him. Stupid wolf cheating powers.

Even knowing that Derek is calling Peter, it doesn't stop Stiles from trying to crawl after him. Stiles is pretty sure that Peter isn't going to care, at least not in a jealousy type of way. Stiles has scars from Peter's fangs on the insides of his thighs. Stiles knows who he belongs to.

Stiles distantly is aware of Derek talking but he can't focus on it. He wants... He wants _a lot_ of shit. He's aching to get off, yeah, but he also just wants to be as slutty as possible with _anyone_ (and that's a scary thought). He wants to suck Derek, to taste him. He wants to nearly choke on cock . He wants Derek to both come on his face and also down his throat. He's leaking at the very thought--

The phone being shoved in his face has Stiles struggling to focus. When Peter says his name, it helps.

"Peter? Hi," Stiles gasps out. "I got like pollen infected by some strange ass flower that looks similar to a - uh - a venus fly trap... I have a picture but um, I think it has aphrodisiac qualities or something because I'm literally dying to be a slut right now and Derek won't let me, and I'm so hard, and I can't do anything about it. It almost hurts, Peter, please--"

At this Stiles clenches his jaw because he's almost crying and crying sucks. His finger nails dig into the palm of his hand trying to force himself to _not_ grab at Derek.

"Stiles. Stiles. Take a deep breath for me. I want you to focus. Just for a moment. You said you have a picture, can you send it to me? It'll just take a second."

Just hearing Peter's voice causes Stiles to whine. "Yeah, 'kay," he mumbles and he's worming his phone out of his jeans and sending a text with a few attachments of the evil sex flower.

"Oh, Stiles… you do know how to get yourself into trouble, don't you?"

Stiles hears Peter sigh and if he wasn't currently struggling he'd have rolled his eyes.

"It's magic. At least in some regard. Born from magic. No wonder you're in pain…"

* * *

This is not the position that Derek want to be in. If something needs to be punched in the face, he's the guy to call, but when it comes to shit like _this_ , when it comes to calming someone down or handling them post-magic ( _god_ , he hates magic) then he's got no clue on what to do.

The issue here is that despite how scandalized he feels, despite how he kind of wants to hit Stiles over the head to knock him out until Peter gets here, Stiles _sounds_ bad. He smells desperate, which... isn't a bad scent, to be fair, but Derek can also scent hints of pain under it. Despite everything, Stiles is still pack, and he's in pain. Derek's instincts are warring with his desire to not have Peter's claws in his throat later.

Thankfully Stiles does manage to focus enough to pay attention to Peter. Derek's not _jealous_ , but he does feel an irritated little twist inside. Both at the damn flower for putting him in this position, and at himself, for seeing Stiles like this, for hearing him, when these sounds aren't _his_ to hear. Not really. He shifts awkwardly, but when Peter just drawls at them, Derek's patience takes a bit of a hit.

"Okay," he cuts in sharply, darting looks between Stiles and his phone. "Okay, so it's magic. What _is_ it, and how do we _fix_ it?"

"My guess? Either witches trying to make a statement, or the Nemeton activating old magic. A coven came through Beacon Hills twenty years ago and we saw something similar to this. It was... unpleasant, and targeted."

" _Jesus_ , Peter. Short version. I've got-- he's _pawing_ at me! How do we _fix_ it?"

"Magic feeds on energy." Derek doesn't have to see Peter to _hear_ the eye roll in his voice. He can hear the slow condescension - like he's a goddamned _kid_ \- clearly. "Life - typically sex - death - often blood magic - and sustenance - usually ritualized feasts. _This_ magic wants energy. Sex, nephew. And Stiles is the host."

Derek breathes out, very slowly. Now isn't the time for questions. "I'm just... he can wait in your apartment, right? That's not my... _You_ can- you know."

There's a rustle over the phone, and the faint jingle of keys. Peter's clearly made it to his car at the very least. "Like I said. This happened before. _Targeted_. Stiles is currently the equivalent of catnip for werewolves. If you send him out there, around the _pack_... well. What do you think would happen?"

Derek blanches. It makes sense, of course. Derek at least has a reason for why he's... _reacting_ the way he has been, but that doesn't make it any less mortifying. "So he needs to stay here. What am I supposed to do?"

There's a pause. A pointed, damnable pause, and Derek can feel his metaphorical hackles prickle. He might not be able to see Peter, but he does know his uncle, and Peter never goes abruptly silent unless he's thinking about something, or unless he's gearing up to something. Derek braces himself without thinking, momentarily forgetting about holding Stiles back.

"You could stop holding him back."

Derek makes a small sound, unbidden. It must sound sufficiently shocked, because Peter's talking again before he can get a word in edgewise.

"The magic will hurt him if it's left alone for too long. Stiles isn't unaware of himself now. Focus will be difficult, but he's fully conscious of his actions. Stiles," Peter adds, and his tone changes. It warms slightly, and solidifies, clearly expecting Stiles' attention. "We talked about this. About the possibility. If you've changed your mind, that's fine. But I need to hear one way or the other."

* * *

Stiles does attempt to be good and not go for Derek. He's near-panting, his clothes sticking to him because of the sweat, and his cock is aching and so fucking hard. It's utterly bizarre because it's not that Stiles is against sex, or being slutty as long as everyone is consenting and it's safe and whatnot. It's just that he doesn't feel like he'd be _discerning_ right now. While Stiles had believed Derek and him to have some sexual and romantic tension before, neither of them had done anything about it. Stiles doesn't think being attracted to Derek is wrong even if he's dating Peter, he just feels like if this isn't taken care of, that he'd go looking for _anyone_ to scratch the itch and that's frightening.

Derek cuts in and Stiles knows that he shouldn't like that irritated voice, but right now anything Derek seems to get him going. Stiles staying still on his knees doesn't last long. He lunges at Derek again, desperate and focused on doing something - _anything_ \- sexual. Even one handed Derek manages to fend him off (cheater). Although he's currently being a sex fiend, Stiles does hear what Peter is saying.

Apparently this has happened before. Targeted. Sex energy. Stiles is playing at being another host. Great. His stomach twists unhappily at the thought. At least he won't be hurting anyone. Derek will keep an eye on him. Because Stiles is yummy catnip and he can't be sent out like a bad little boy. Nope.

Stiles does manage to get close to Derek when Peter suggests that Derek _not_ hold him back. Derek sounds scandalized all over again. But then Peter is talking to him and Stiles does understand what he's implying. Peter is giving him permission to fool around with Derek, maybe even _all_ of them together. The infamous threesome. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This is messed up, but what isn't in Beacon Hills? This is his life.

"Yeah, yeah, I want to," Stiles says as he rises to nuzzle his cheek against Derek's crotch, shaky fingers grabbing onto belt loops. "I'm going to suck his dick, Peter," Stiles then adds on hotly. "Want you both so badly... Please, Derek, let me? Tell him it's okay." He figures Derek will need to hear it from Peter. He looks up then, glassy eyed but still himself.

* * *

Derek knows he's heard Peter right, but it still doesn't seem possible. He's got all the evidence right in front of him (literally) but the _thought_ makes his instincts feel like they're pacing restlessly in his chest. Derek scowls, but it's more of a defensive expression than one of real anger. It takes real effort to keep from squirming uncomfortably. Because... look. It's not like he hadn't thought about it once, _before_ Stiles had started to see Peter.

But Derek knows when not to pine, and he and Stiles - despite all odds - have become good friends since then. Yes, he still has little flashes where he _likes_ Stiles, but Derek's no homewrecker, and _this_ feels unthinkable. Peter shouldn't be telling him it's okay, but he is, and Derek doesn't know how to reconcile that information.

Instead, Derek watches, dumbfounded and defensive, as Stiles lunges for him. Derek reaches out to keep him at bay, but it's half-hearted, because Stiles says he _wants_ this, and then Stiles' cheek is pressing against the front of his jeans, and Derek feels dizzy, hissing softly between his teeth before realizing that Peter can _hear_ him. Christ. This is so fucked up...

But Stiles is talking like he has zero filter left, and despite how in over his head Derek feels, he doesn't want Stiles _hurting_. It's coercive, and he's going to absolutely punch Peter later (once he manages to really wrap his head around the idea that Peter is _willing_ to share who he probably views as _his_ ) but Derek can't say it's not effective. He worries his lower lip between his teeth, and he bites back a small groan when Stiles details his intentions. It's... unfair, and weird, but Stiles' pulse is steady, and while he looks like he's seconds away from orgasm (again, _Christ)_ Derek can still see Stiles is present. It's consent. And Peter's pushing for it...

"I-- Peter, you can't be okay with..."

"I am. Ergo it being _my_ suggestion," Peter drawls back, his voice sardonic between them. "If you need logistics to get it through your skull, I would _much_ prefer Stiles be with someone I can trust to control himself versus the rest of the pack. Can you picture Isaac being discerning? _Scott?_ Any of the _teenagers?_ "

Derek grimaces. Then, looking down at Stiles - his hair mussed and damp, his skin flushed pink, and his cheek pressed against the hardening line of Derek's dick - he swallows. "...okay." It's quiet, hesitant, still supremely awkward, but at least it's permission.

"Okay, yeah, he can. I can see your point. But you're coming to get him. You're going to help, or I swear to _God,_ Peter."

"Very bold of you, Derek," Peter chuckles, and Derek realizes his insinuation a second too late. Before he can add that he hadn't meant it like _that_ , Peter cuts in again. "I'll be there. Stiles, I leave him in your capable hands. Don't leave the loft under _any_ circumstances."

And then, like that, the line goes dead.

* * *

God, this is crazy. Magical sex pollen? Freaky witch flower? _Really_? But the proof is in the pudding, or in this case the proof is _him_. Stiles is on his knees, he's looking up and all but pleading with Derek to suck his cock. Now Stiles likes this particular activity, but he's never had this vicious need to do it. Derek is Peter's nephew. Stiles actually liked Derek before Peter (Peter made a horrible first impression, after all). So there is a part of Stiles that is actually thrilled by this opportunity. He knows he shouldn't be. He knows maybe he'll need to think about this later, but if he has to be a crazy sex fiend, at least Derek is a perk?

Stiles can see that Derek isn't soft. Maybe it's just because Stiles smells like yumyum wolfbites because of the pollen, maybe Derek actually is turned on by him, Stiles doesn't exactly know, but it doesn't matter because Peter is giving _them_ permission.

And really, Stiles has to agree with Peter here. Scott may be his best friend, but he definitely doesn't want him to be around right now. Stiles trusts Derek to do what's necessary - Derek's always been good at that.

Derek finally seems to get it through his thick head that this is the best idea and as soon as Derek says okay, Stiles' hands are moving to undo Derek's fly. With a dexterity that he's honestly impressed by, Stiles has the button undone and the zipper pulled down. By the time Peter hangs up, he's working Derek's jeans down as well.

A nice bulge can be seen and Stiles' fingers curl under the elastic band as he rubs his mouth along the line of Derek's hardening cock. The boxers are silk and feel nice.

"I've thought... Thought of doing this before," he admits, humming contentedly at the heat and musk he can smell. His cheek nuzzles again before he looks up, eyes bright with a focused hunger. "Gonna enjoy this, Derek, going to suck you hard and make you make me a fucking mess."

That stated, he yanks down Derek's boxers.

* * *

This is happening. Derek feels a little disconnected with himself as he looks down at the phone in his hand, the screen going dark on Peter's contact information. It's hard to really wrap his head around the idea that he's just been given permission to be sexual with _Stiles_. His uncle's... boyfriend? Partner? (Mate?)

It's unheard of, at least in Derek's circles, and he wants to be scandalized, wants to insist that the idea doesn't appeal, wants the moral high ground here, but he really doesn't feel it. Looking down at Stiles, at the fetching flush to his cheeks, the way warm brown eyes are blown dark with lust, the way his hair is still mussed and damp... and then his _scent..._ Derek knows he has no moral high ground.

When he tunes back into the moment, Stiles' hands are already working at his fly. Derek blinks a few times, his brain quickly catching up to the moment, and he gapes, breathing a little quicker in anticipation and continued disbelief as Stiles' hands work his jeans open and then work them down to show the black silk boxers underneath. Derek doesn't need to look to know he's easily half hard, and he needs to try to swallow twice when Stiles' lips ( _fuck,_ his lips...) brush over the line of his dick, through his boxers.

Stiles' voice is low, and Derek doesn't know what to do with the knowledge that Stiles has thought about this before (he's telling the truth), but when Stiles nuzzles against him and looks up, his eyes all hunger and _intent_ , Derek curses low under his breath and tosses his phone back on the couch.

" _Jesus_ , Stiles," he hisses, and as Stiles' quick, clever fingers yank his boxers down in one fell swoop, Derek reaches back with one hand to grip the back of the couch, and then tentatively reaches down to touch - and then bury - his fingers into Stiles' hair, gripping his encouragement.

This is _really_ happening. Derek feels hot with the knowledge. It's still weird, and he still kind of wonders if this is some sort of fever dream, but it _feels_ real. Stiles' pulse doesn't skip, and the knowledge that Stiles really means it when he says that he wants to make Derek make _him_ a mess is _true_ is enough to send a jolt of arousal through him. It's so sharp that it makes his dick ache, and Derek shivers only for a second before tentatively pulling Stiles in closer by his hair.

"You... you're _sure?_ It's not just the-- the pollen stuff?"

* * *

It should be weirder to be on his knees in front of Derek, with Derek's boxers pulled down, and a waiting dick near his face.

But somehow it's not. It really isn't. Derek isn't fully hard, but Stiles can tell that he's definitely _not_ lacking in the size department (runs in the Hale family apparently). He's so ridiculously turned on, but the idea of giving Derek pleasure, of sucking his cock and yes, being made a mess, somehow seems as good as an orgasm. Stiles has never been stupidly overgiving, at least not to the point where he'd forgo his own pleasure, but right now it just seems less important.

Fucking jizzing flowers...

One good thing about Derek being a wolf right now is that he can tell if he's lying or not. Of course Peter's often a douchebag about it, easily pointing out when Stiles is lying when he claims that he can't take anymore. Peter is the king of edging him and although Stiles will thrash and curse up a storm, he fucking loves it.

When Derek's fingers come to grip at damp hair, Stiles grins, really liking the attention. It only gets better after Derek pulls him closer to what he wants - the D. When Derek asks if he's sure about what he claimed (wanting to do this before), Stiles only licks his lips.

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true," he answers. "You already agreed. There's no point in me trying to suck up... Now let me suck _you_."

His lips part and he's quickly stuffing his mouth with Derek's cock. Stiles sucks eagerly, moaning as his tongue feels out new velvety hot skin. In no time he's bobbing and giving it his all wanting, - no, _needing_ \- Derek's dick to harden further. Stiles' hands are not idle as his palms travel under Derek's shirt to touch his abs, and he touches what he's only thought about before.

* * *

Derek has to ask. He _has_ to ask without Peter's influence in it. He knows that Peter would never do anything to hurt Stiles, not after the nogitsune, not after being the only one who'd known how to handle Stiles following the whole damn thing. But Derek still has to _know_. He wants to trust his uncle, wants to really believe that he's got everyone's best interests in mind. He wants to believe in Peter the way he did when he was a kid, but times have changed and Derek doesn't trust quite so easily now. So he has to ask. He feels like an ass, even _more_ so when Stiles immediately confirms that he _absolutely_ wants this, but it goes a long way to setting his mind at ease.

It means that Derek can fully appreciate the way that Stiles is looking at his cock like he wants to run away with it. Derek's used to lustful stares and appreciative looks, but the intensity in the way that Stiles is looking at him is something new. It makes pride swell in his chest, and while it doesn't make this less weird, it does make it better.

And then Stiles lunges, and Derek has about a half a second to be shocked before his world narrows in on _wettighthot_ and he shouts Stiles' name in a dazed mix of surprise and pleasure. There's no warmup, no teasing. It's just Stiles' lips parting and sucking him down, and his tongue immediately going to work so quickly that Derek feels a little dizzy with how immediately his arousal skyrockets. Stiles doesn't ask Derek's dick to get hard, doesn't coax it hard, or ease him into it. He _demands_ it, sucking and licking and messily bobbing his head like he wants one thing in life and Derek's dick happens to be it.

Derek's fully hard and aching desperately in what feels like seconds, which _would_ be embarrassing if not for how much he really can't focus on anything but Stiles' mouth. He watches, wide-eyed, lips parted on soundless breaths of pleasure as Stiles' cheeks hollow and lips that Derek has fantasized about on more than one occasion move quickly over his cock.

"Oh f-- fucking _Hell_ , Stiles, how do you even-- _God_..." He is never, _ever_ giving Peter shit for looking smug about his sex life again.

* * *

God, it's so fucking _good_. Stiles' eyes slip shut and he feels the familiar struggle of balancing breathing and moving and the fucking _exertion_ it takes to give a great but messy blowjob. Let it be known that Stiles gives good head, okay. Stiles prides himself on it. He's got dick sucking lips and he's not afraid to gag and give it his all. There's just something both so intimate about using his mouth on such sensitive skin. Peter also is a fan because it means Stiles' mouth is being occupied and he can't be a brat (but the same thing can totally be applied to Peter, mouthy bastard that he is).

It doesn't take much for Derek's cock to respond and fill out. Stiles' mouth opens wider to accommodate the size and god, he likes it. He likes the slight ache that's beginning to work its way through his jaw, he likes that he can do this really fucking well despite _just_ being a human too. He's not really at a disadvantage for once.

And Derek cursing is music to his ears, okay. Stiles only wants more. More sounds, more of Derek's skin. His hands continue to touch underneath Derek's shirt, exploring this new and deliciously hot body now available to him. His nails scrape down Derek's back, knowing that the slight distraction can help balance out vigorous blowjobs. It's almost unbelievable how much _better_ he feels now that he's _doing_ something. Stiles isn't even touching himself. His cock is still rockhard in his jeans, but there's a part that is sated by doing this.

So Stiles continues, he breathes through his nostrils while he bobs and forces himself to relax his throat as he pushes himself to deepthroat Derek. Stiles is single minded in his focus. He wants Derek's come. He wants to make Derek feel fucking _amazing_. Stiles doesn't stop if he gags a few times. He doesn't care about the spit leaking from the sides of his mouth.

He wants and he's going to get.

* * *

Derek grits his teeth as if pained, because in a way, going from semi-hard to aching in only a few seconds _does_ sting. He's been on the receiving end of a few vigorous blowjobs before, but nothing has ever felt quite this focused. The others, Derek is sure, had been trying to show off their skill, but he doesn't get that feeling from Stiles. No, Stiles seems far more interested in _making_ Derek feel good, like Derek doesn't have a say in the matter, and somehow that's impossibly hot. His dick aches, and the suction almost hurts with sensitivity when Stiles immediately goes to town, sucking at his cock so hard that Derek wonders if he intends to take it from him or something.

The sound of tearing fabric is what alerts him to his claws. He darts a quick look back at the sofa and sees his nails dug into the fabric, and he quickly struggles to maintain his control, because he doesn't want to scratch Stiles' scalp with his claws. Derek tries to breathe slowly, tries to counter Stiles' enthusiasm with something easier, but it's not happening. Stiles touches and explores, his hands curious, but it isn't until Derek feels the scratch of nails down his back that he realizes it's also a ploy to offer distraction.

_Where_ did Stiles learn to suck cock like this? Fuck. Derek suspects the answer, but he doesn't know how he's ever going to look Peter in the eye again if that's the case. Not that it matters now, with Stiles fucking sucking him down like he's trying to force Derek to come like a damn teenager. Derek grinds his teeth harder, considers biting himself to bleed just for more focus, but then the tight heat of Stiles' mouth becomes the tight heat of Stiles' _throat_ , and Derek's hips jerk unbidden. He feels his cock enveloped in heat, feels Stiles' throat working around him, and Derek gasps out a breathless apology.

A quick, " _fuck_ , sorry, sorry, didn't-- didn't mean to..." because like Hell can he form full sentences when it feels like _Stiles_ is the one in control of his dick.

"God, Stiles, slow-- slow down a little or this'll be over soon."

* * *

He's sucking Derek's cock and he's going to continue sucking it until Derek comes in his mouth or on him. That's the plan. Stiles isn't going to stop, screw any discomfort. It doesn't matter if his jaw aches or his throat might be sore after. It doesn't matter if his lips are swollen. He needs Derek to come. It's his driving goal, that's the aspiration here. And no it's not any goal a parent would be proud about (Stiles pointedly doesn't think about his dad finding out about this). This may be a means to an end, but it's not as if Stiles wants it to be bad for Derek or that _he_ can't enjoy himself.

And enjoy himself Stiles is. His chin is a mess of spit, but he's in his element. Apparently basking in giving a blowjob pleases whatever magic this is. Stiles distantly recalls Peter talking about energy and a feast or something, but specifics are difficult to remember right now.

Right now he has Derek's beautiful hard cock in his mouth and Stiles is going to town on it. His hands touch, his fingers sliding over various defined muscles. While Peter is definitely no slouch, Derek has always had a monopoly on the sex god body and Stiles can't help but touch and take it in. Stiles registers the jumbled apology - that Derek didn't mean to thrust and make him gag - but that won't do. A little gagging never hurt anyone and Stiles knows that it feels good. He ignores Derek and works on his craft until Derek tries to get him to slow down and no, that also won't do.

Stiles pulls off slowly, he takes a few rushed fuller breaths as he looks up at Derek. "You don't get it, do you?" Stiles asks, his voice hoarse. "I _want_ you to fuck my mouth like you mean it; I can take it. And I _want_ you to come. Just because you get off, doesn't mean this is over. We're allowed to do whatever, and I plan on indulging in that."

Stiles is smirking because his boyfriend is the best, okay? Peter isn't going to be mad about this (but the same can't be said for _getting_ him into this position, yeah he's gonna be in trouble for that).

Stiles then has an idea. "C'mon," he says as he leans back and stands. Before Derek can say anything, Stiles is beckoning him to follow with a playful curl of his finger. As Stiles leads the way, he's tearing off his shirt and dropping the sweat-damp item on the floor. They head to Derek's _bedroom_. Stiles crawls on the bed, laying on his back and positioning himself so that his head is hanging off the edge of the mattress, elongating his throat and therefore making it easier for Derek to fuck into his throat and have him _not_ gag (not everyone's into that, he understands). It's a convenient trick Peter taught him and why not share it with Derek?

"Fuck down my throat," Stiles tries to command, but it still sounds like he's pleading.

* * *

Derek doesn't know if he's relieved or disappointed when Stiles' sinful mouth draws back, but it does give him the chance to breathe. His legs feel weak and shaky as he stands there, braced on the sofa, one hand still in Stiles' hair, but he can't help it. Derek's reasonably sure that Stiles just tried to suck his brain out through his dick or something, and he feels oddly jittery and oversensitive, but it's good. It's _so_ good. He's breathless and riding high on sensation as he shivers and pants, dragging in air just as desperately as Stiles seems to be.

Derek understands what this is. He does. But he's never been _that_ type of sexual partner before. So honestly, while he does know, the fact that Stiles so blatantly spells it out for him - that Stiles _wants_ Derek to fuck his mouth and come, and that Derek's orgasm does not mean this _ends_ (fuck, that's strangely intense) - helps. Derek swallows down a groan, but there's no masking his shiver. God, yeah, he is never going to bitch Peter and Stiles out for being late to meetings again. Ever. He might even be a little jealous. But before Derek can dwell on that, Stiles is suddenly leaning back and standing. Derek blinks, his cock jutting out hard and wet from his body, and he watches Stiles beckon him to follow. Dazed, still caught up in this, Derek swallows and then follows.

Stiles sheds his shirt on the way and Derek drinks in the sight before remembering to do the same. He shuffles out of his jeans and boxers awkwardly and pulls his shirt off to all but toss across the room. But when Stiles leads him into _his_ bedroom and then just up and lays down on his bed, Derek hesitates. Frowning, he looks Stiles over, but when he realizes, when Stiles all but begs, Derek breathes out sharply between his teeth in aroused wonder, then steps in closer.

He touches Stiles' throat. It's tentative, and then it's not, Derek's hand enveloping the elegant column of Stiles' throat, feeling over his Adam's apple, and tracking the fluttering pulse there. He swallows thickly; no one has ever let him do this before, and the _thought_ has him aching.

"Yeah... yeah, okay, open," he breathes, and Stiles' lips part obediently. Derek reaches down, wrapping a hand around his cock for a quick stroke, and he bites his lip as he rubs the head of his cock over Stiles' lower lip, watching it move to accommodate. With a breathy curse, Derek tentatively eases his cock in past Stiles' lips, and when he gets no protests, he presses in deeper. It's a different sensation but similar heat and wetness, and it's _good_. Derek feels heat race along his body as he presses in, but nothing - absolutely nothing - tops the way he can _feel_ Stiles' throat shift under his palm. It's such a sharp realization, that his dick is in Stiles' throat, that Derek feels dangerously close.

"If... if you need me to stop, shove at me, okay?" He breathes, and then, though it still seems impossible that this is _real_ , he eases his hips back and thrusts in, and there are no words to describe it. The sensation is amazing, but what really gets Derek is the trust, is Stiles' desperation, his sounds, the dampness of his lips, and the tightness of his throat as Derek fucks into it lightly, and then with greater abandon. He grits his teeth and growls, pleasure curling through him as he fucks Stiles' throat like he means it, and Derek feels every thrust under his hand.

He doesn't know how long it's been (probably embarrassingly short, if he's being honest) when he realizes he's not going to last. But instead of stopping, Derek just goes for it, remembering Stiles' words. He just grits out a tight, "gonna come, _fuck_ , Stiles," and after making sure Stiles grabs a breath, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself in Stiles' tight, gripping throat, and snarls as he comes, pleasure pulsing hotly under his skin as he shoots down Stiles' throat.

* * *

Derek definitely looks good naked, _mm hm_. Stiles would be more comfortable if he, too, were naked but he's focused solely on this task. He doesn't understand why exactly it's so imperative that he get Derek off, but he doesn't write the rules of magical sex pollen. Stiles has the thought that this is only the beginning, too. Right now he's pleased by pleasing Derek, by being sexual and depraved, but he has the suspicion it's going to be a bumpy ride.

But for now, he's laid out in front of Derek, mouth open and throat ready to relax. Already Stiles can feel the blood rushing to his head, but he's counting on Derek coming through and this not lasting _too_ long (Stiles has learned that most positions held for too long can get tiresome during sex-stuff).

Derek doesn't actually rush to stuff his dick in. Curiously, it's Derek's hand that reaches down and touches his throat, the touch gentle and maybe even appreciative? Stiles is readying to launch into more encouragement, but Derek is finally agreeing and moving. Derek rubs his slick cockhead against Stiles' bottom lip and then it's sliding past and in. Stiles lets his eyes fall shut as he focuses on relaxing to allow Derek's rather sizeable dick to push deeper and down into his throat.

Stiles can't speak, but he moans his praise at Derek, distantly registering that Derek had offered him a way out if it gets to be too much. Stiles has no plans on tapping out, however. Derek's hand remains on his throat and it's pretty thrilling to know that Derek can feel his dick pushing in. Stiles breathes through his nostrils as carefully as he can as Derek picks up the pace. The thrusts are jarring but it's what Stiles wants. It's not too rough. Hearing Derek growl and knowing that Derek is hard and going to come because of him? It's perfect.

The warning is appreciated and soon enough thick hot spurts are felt down his throat. Stiles forces himself to stay still, to let Derek enjoy how his throat convulses, but in a few seconds he's pushing at Derek and Derek is mercifully pulling out. Stiles gasps for breath as he rights himself, his head dizzy from the sudden rush. Stiles wipes at his mouth, his eyes zeroing in on Derek as they both recover.

"Good, huh?" Stiles says as he scrambles off the bed on wobbly legs. Derek looks stunned and it's because of that that Stiles is back in Derek's space, taking his hands and relocating them to the waistband of his jeans. "Undress me. I need more."

* * *

It's bliss. Derek feels dizzy with it as Stiles' throat tightens around his cock, as he swallows what he'd wanted Derek to give him. Derek hears the rush of his own blood in his ears, hears the pulsing pound of his very own white noise as pleasure zips through him with unfailing accuracy. Stiles is fucking perfect, his throat tight, convulsing as he swallows, and instead of shoving Derek away after a second, he lets Derek stay there, lets him twitch and shudder as pleasure fades to sharp aftershocks. Derek groans roughly, relief and amazement burning through him, and when Stiles' hands finally come up to give him a small push, Derek feels dazed with it.

He goes willingly, carefully easing his cock out of Stiles' throat while taking great care not to choke him. He's shaking with the effort, his legs feeling weak as he fights to catch his own breath, and he watches with dazed amazement as Stiles gasps and quickly works at recovering.

Derek did that, he realizes. He was the one who made Stiles' lips look that swollen, who left the small smear of come against the corner of his mouth. His hand had left the warmth on Stiles' throat, and Derek openly gapes as Stiles turns over and scrambles up, like he _needs_ more. Derek swallows, and he's still catching his breath when Stiles takes his hands and moves them to the waistband of his jeans. Derek looks for a second, his mind still skipping along unhelpfully, but one thing he does know is that he _wants_ Stiles naked.

Nodding, Derek quickly moves his fingers to Stiles' jeans. He undoes the button on autopilot, but when he unzips Stiles' jeans and the _scent_ of Stiles' arousal really hits him, Derek swallows and goes quicker. It's a relatively simple matter to push Stiles' jeans down, but as he goes for Stiles' boxers, he hesitates.

There's a faded bite mark on Stiles' thigh. Derek looks at it, almost uncomprehending, before he understands, and he feels a flush of heat and embarrassment climb through him at the clear evidence of something so damn intimate.

"You let him _bite_ you?" He asks, trying to sound judgmental, but he only likely manages stunned. Derek's fingers graze the old scar for a moment, but then he moves to work Stiles' boxers down as well. And Stiles? Stiles has nothing to be ashamed about, though his cock looks so damn flushed and hard that it might as well be purple. Derek shivers. "Lean on me. Step... step out of your pants. You-- you could have gotten nightmares from him biting you, Stiles."

* * *

It makes sense to get undressed. While it's difficult to really pick a direction of where to go _next_ , Stiles feels hot and uncomfortable in his boxers and jeans so those need to come off sooner rather than later. Peter is on his way and... The idea of _both_ Hales in the same bedroom is enough for his stomach to tighten with anticipation. Maybe the flower power isn't so bad if it gets him sexed up to the max.

This time there is no arguing, Derek's fingers undo the button and then zipper and Stiles is wiggling, all too pleased that his jeans are being worked down. But something catches Derek's eye and distracts him from beginning on his boxers. Stiles glances down, a little perturbed because undressing him is _not_ a complicated task--

Oh. The scar... The scar from Peter's fangs. Stiles remembers that night well. It had hurt like a bitch, but had also been very, very hot. It had been his idea, too. He'd asked, begged Peter to give him something real that would last... Peter had been clear about the risks, especially after Derek's thing with Jackson had gone down.

Goosebumps rise over his skin as Derek's fingers trace over the scar before getting back on track and pulling the boxers down. Stiles does allow Derek to help him and he's pretty sure it's the flower that makes him not self-conscious in the least about being naked.

_'...you could have gotten nightmares from him biting you, Stiles.'_

"I have nightmares already," Stiles shoots back as he steps out of his clothing, one hand grasping onto Derek's shoulder to steady himself. It's something he doesn't discuss but the pack knows. They've seen him drift off into a restless sleep only to scream himself awake. It's less now, at least. "Why shouldn't he and I share nightmares? Frankly, it gives me a break from my own messed up mind."

It also allows him to be closer to Peter because Peter's mark always stays on him.

* * *

Derek can't think of _any_ human who's ever let a werewolf bite them without the intention of turning them. Maybe now isn't the time to dwell on it; he just had his dick down Stiles' throat, after all. But it honestly puts a few things into perspective that Derek hadn't anticipated. Stiles and Peter... he's known that they seem good for each other. He knows that Scott doesn't like it, that it's odd, a little weird, that it's an awkwardly-accepted thing in the pack, but this puts it in a new perspective. And it's not just Stiles' risk of nightmares that's getting him. It's... the fact that _Peter_ had willingly bitten him, had taken the risk of sharing memories.

Stiles confirms it, and this is definitely not something he should be commenting on with Stiles so damn hard in front of him, but Derek's suddenly aware that Stiles and Peter aren't just some random weird sex thing. It's... real, in a way he hadn't really known until right this second. Shit.

And Peter had told him to do this. That's what Derek's having a hard time with now.

If only Peter had given him any idea of what to say to Stiles to distract him, or to get him out of his head. Derek feels wholly in over his head, particularly when Stiles speaks. Derek shifts awkwardly - not really known for being a good conversationalist. So instead of answering, instead of pressing or trying to reassure, Derek looks down and then reaches out, setting a hand on Stiles' hip. Derek wets his lips, then he draws Stiles in close by his hip, leaving no room for argument. Derek lifts his free hand to his lips in order to spit into his palm, and then reaches down. He wraps his fingers around Stiles' cock, feeling the weight to it, the heat, how damn hard he feels, and Derek doesn't hesitate to start jerking him off, hoping that maybe pleasure could help with distraction.

"What... what would help? Do you want to get off? I can do this, or use my mouth..."

* * *

Peter hasn't told Stiles much about the fire or the resulting locked-in-his-own-head coma thing. He's said even less about the ensuing craziness upon waking up and how he killed his own niece to claim the Alpha status to chase after revenge. And Peter definitely doesn't reminisce to him about his own nephew slashing his throat. Stiles doesn't push - there's no need _._

Stiles has seen some of these memories as flashes in twisted nightmares that bleed into his subconscious. He's heard the screams of terror... but if it's Hales screaming as they burn alive, it's at least not _Stiles_ screaming himself hoarse. Stiles has felt the smoke choking him, the flames sear... which is a change from the agony of his ankle being caught in a trap and the nogitsune taunting him. And maybe it's fucked up, but seeing Laura die is easier than seeing Allison on the ground and knowing that he'd had a part in it...

But they're closer because of it. Maybe Peter hadn't been willing to talk about all of that with him, but he'd been willing to potentially share through another intimate way. Stiles can count his fingers - he can make sure there are five - and then those fingers go to his thigh, finding the raised scar tissue. Reality is with Peter, consciousness is a scarred bite on his skin and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Even though Derek doesn't say anything about it, Stiles thinks that he understands. Derek _not_ talking means he's unsure and he doesn't want to fuck up. Stiles feels his heart ache a little. And anyway, Derek pulling him close and spitting on his hand - and then that hand coming to his dick - that's better. Derek is with him and willing to be sexual with him because Stiles is currently living a frenzied flower sexlife. Stiles knows he's still under it's thrall. He's still mega horny and he can feel it scorch under his skin like a rampant fever. There's a pounding need for _more_ and Stiles doesn't want it to overtake him.

His head bows down and his hips are fucking into Derek's grip, hungry for the touch. "You're helping," Stiles confirms, voice ragged. And he can't keep his hands from reaching out, grasping Derek's shoulders before running down biceps and then holding there. "Want your mouth on my mouth," he then says as he glances up. He can still taste Derek in his mouth, but it hardly seems important. Kissing Derek though? That seems like a great idea.

* * *

Stiles' desperation is easier to focus on than his potential shared trauma. It's not that Derek wouldn't talk about it. Hell, it's not like Derek had even meant to bring it up, but he's not Alpha anymore and he'd never been particularly good at talking about feelings. His own, or the feelings of other people. The issue is that he can tell that bringing up the bite has made Stiles unhappy. He can feel it like someone plucking a nerve in his instincts. Because Stiles may be human, but the pack bond is there. Derek feels it comfortably nestled in his own mind, and maybe he can't feel Stiles' emotions or anything, but he can tell when he's distressed when he's close enough. Stiles is definitely distressed.

So Derek touches him, at a loss of what else to do. Not ten minutes ago, Stiles was stumbling out of the shower in desperation, and now Derek's come down his throat, has felt Stiles' throat flexing around his dick in a way that makes his dick strive to harden again at the very memory. They've gone from zero to a thousand in three steps, it seems like, and Derek doesn't know what that's going to mean in the end, but when he wraps his hand around Stiles' dick, when he grips and strokes and feels Stiles' hips jerk, he knows he can do this at least.

Stiles touches him, his shoulders, his arms, and Derek makes sure to keep his fist tight as Stiles fucks into it. He really is something like this. Derek stares, watching the flex of muscles he doesn't remember Stiles having, watching the hooded look in his eyes as he chases his pleasure. And then Stiles is looking up at him and Derek feels a jolt inside.

He hadn't expected a request to kiss, though. Kissing... kissing feels intimate. It's not even the fact that Stiles' mouth must taste like Derek's come - Derek doesn't care about that. It's the fact that kissing usually means intimacy, feelings, and Derek's not expecting that.

But after a moments' indecision, he nods shakily and then reaches up with his free hand to slide his fingers into Stiles' drying hair. Derek pulls him in closer, trying not to make it _too_ slow, and when Stiles looks at him, Derek leans in and catches his lips in a kiss.

It's... it's weird, because Derek _knows_ that Peter has laid claim to Stiles. But he can't deny the thrill in kissing Stiles, in tasting swollen lips, in coaxing his lips open so Derek can chase his own taste in Stiles' mouth. He's reasonably sure that Peter will kill him for it, but if this is Derek's only chance? He's taking it.

* * *

Kissing is more intimate, but when Peter and he had discussed the potential of a threesome, it hadn't been something that had been struck off the list. The only things that they could actually come up with were: no permanent marks to be left on Stiles (as nothing would last on Peter), and nothing to do with blood or unprotected sex as their potential partner wouldn't be a werewolf and Stiles is obviously human, so it would be a risk.

_But_ Derek _is_ a werewolf though. He's not carrying anything. He could bite Stiles or even use his claws. He wouldn't have to use a condom either--

Derek looks focused and serious on this - on him. A part of Stiles is touched that Derek is taking this - him - seriously, but another part wants to crack some sort of joke because maybe he can get Derek's lips to at least twitch. It's impossible to really think of anything because Derek's fist is tight around his cock and then Derek's mouth is on his and Stiles is surging forward with a whine and kissing him right back.

Derek jerks him with firm and quick strokes that have him shuddering and feeling gloriously close. Stiles' eyelids are fluttering closed as he grasps onto Derek's arms in a bid to steady himself. Derek is a good kisser and Stiles is more than receptive and responsive. There's more facial hair than Peter, but the scratch of it isn't bad. Stiles' hips thrust forward, needy and insistent, and he's pulling away from Derek's mouth a moment later, crying out as he spills over Derek's hand and actually slumps forward.

* * *

Derek kisses Stiles like it's the last thing he'll ever wind up doing, and for all he knows, it is. He doesn't feel great about it, because in a way it feels like taking advantage of Peter's trust, but Stiles is going for it too. Stiles isn't stopping him, and if Stiles had risked Peter's memories, they're much more serious than Derek had ever expected. It makes him feel even more awkward about everything that's happening, but this is something that Stiles had needed, had asked for, and Derek isn't about to stop it.

He shudders viscerally as Stiles kisses back, as he _surges_ into the kiss with wild abandon, all but attacking Derek's lips. It's thrilling and reckless and it makes Derek groan back as he licks into Stiles' mouth, as he chases his own taste, and jerks Stiles' cock with quick, solid pulls aimed to all but wrench orgasm out of him. He doesn't know how long he has until Peter shows up, and despite feeling like an absolute asshole because of it, Derek wants to know what Stiles looks like when he comes.

Stiles seems to like it. He grips tight at Derek's arms, shaking with desperation, and Derek drinks in every sound, every shudder, every shift of Stiles' body as Stiles fucks forward into his fist. Derek kisses him deep, humming a soft sound of encouragement, and when Stiles' rhythm stutters, when the scent of arousal spikes, Derek draws back with Stiles and watches, torn between watching Stiles' cock and his expression as Stiles finally cries out and comes.

Heat spills over Derek's fist and he doesn't hesitate to stroke Stiles through it, but it's Stiles' expression that really captures him. Derek watches, transfixed, as Stiles' face creases with pleasure, as desperation etches itself into every inch of him, and Derek swallows thickly as Stiles shudders and falls forward against him.

Derek reaches down with the hand not on Stiles' dick and wraps it around him, pulling Stiles in against his chest. Derek holds him close, supporting him, and he buries his face in against Stiles' hair, breathing in his scent. It's... odd, he'd used Peter's shampoo in the shower, but he still smells good, still smells like temptation.

"Easy," Derek coaxes roughly, his voice tighter. "Easy, Stiles. Lean on me, that's it. Are you okay?"

* * *

This is an evening of first's. First time encountering a magical sex flower. First time getting pollinated or whatever by said magical flower. First time being a turbo slut. First time touching Derek, sucking him, seeing him naked, swallowing his come. This is Stiles' first time being naked in front of Derek too, Stiles' first time getting jerked off by Derek and this is their first time kissing.

Stiles has zero complaints. Derek is a passionate maybe even pent up kisser (or at least their liplocking had been). Stiles doesn't feel the same kind of guilt or conflict as Derek because he knows Peter isn't going to be upset over it. This has been stamped as pre-approved and whatever Stiles _might_ be feeling other than arousal is obviously residual from before when he had a crush on Derek.

Now Stiles feels weak from the rush of his orgasm, but Derek is more than capable of holding him up and Stiles lets himself shake and enjoy the aftershocks of coming. But despite getting off, Stiles is aware that he's still hard and horny. He tries to ignore it, tries to enjoy Derek's closeness and comfort even (Derek is still pack and that have a bond, it's not weird).

He thinks Derek might have smelled him but whatever. It's not important. Stiles gives a muffled grunt of an answer before he's kissing at whatever skin he can reach. Right now it's Derek's collarbone and his hands slide around to feel up Derek's defined back and shoulders. He thrusts back in Derek's hand and there is an edge of oversensitivity which lube might help, but he's not interested in that.

"Fuck, please, touch me," Stiles pleads. "All over. Not my dick though," he amends. Right now Stiles doesn't even care if he gets his own come on him. He's already sweaty and although he's just orgasmed, he's nowhere near satisfied.

* * *

It's dizzying being in this position with Stiles. Less than an hour ago, Derek had been annoyed at Stiles for barging into the loft and hijacking the shower while he'd scattered pollen everywhere. Now, with Stiles using him as support, Derek's not annoyed. He doesn't really know what he is as he watches Stiles recover, listening to the ragged quality of his breathing and feeling him shake. Derek still can't really figure out how all of this managed to happen, but he can't bring himself to be too caught up in it as Stiles presses in closer and those soft lips find the edge of Derek's clavicle.

Derek's kind of amazed that Stiles can even _think_ about going again in any capacity, because while Derek might be a werewolf, Stiles is a human. Admittedly only just _barely_ still a teenager, so he's probably got hormones going for him, but he's got to be sensitive, and when Stiles thrusts against Derek's hand again, Derek is the one to wince in sympathy. Stiles is still hard, and a quick glance between them shows that despite the tackiness of Stiles' come, despite the proof he _had_ come, his dick is still flushed deep and it looks almost painful. Potent flower...

But Derek's not dumb enough to ignore a request when Stiles' voice is so thin with desperation. He shivers at the plea to _touch_ , and Derek hesitates only for a second, looking at his come-covered hand, but Stiles doesn't look to be in the mood to give him time to clean his hand. So he does what Stiles had asked him to. He carefully slides his hands up Stiles' skin, touching up his back, down to his ass for an appreciative squeeze that Derek's wanted to give for awhile.

Then he moves his hands up higher, letting Stiles kiss at his skin as his own hands slide up Stiles' chest. Derek strokes his fingertips over sweat-slick skin, over the faint lines of abs that he hadn't known Stiles even _had_ , and up over his chest. Derek thumbs one nipple and swallows, glancing at Stiles with a small frown of concern.

"It's not going away? I don't know what to... maybe you should, uh... wait for Peter." Which Derek _really_ doesn't want to say. "I don't want to hurt you by accident, Stiles."

* * *

It's pretty bizarre to have just gotten off, but still be super horny. His dick is still slightly sensitive, but it's not a deterrent. Stiles wonders if this is what being high feels like. Probably... Except this is a sex-crazed high and there's no telling how long it's going to last for. God, he hopes Peter gets here soon because Peter seemed to know at least a little bit about the plant or magic and because Stiles doesn't know if only one person _can_ sate him anyway. Even so, Stiles is glad that Derek is here with him and he does trust Derek. Derek's been here since the beginning.

Does Stiles care that his jizz is getting wiped on him? No. Because it's Derek touching him and it feels good. Derek's touch is a little hesitant, but it's not coy and Stiles sighs in between kissing at Derek's skin. Derek gets a little more bold by squeezing his ass and immediately Stiles is wondering how Derek's cock would feel _inside_ him. That touch doesn't linger before Derek is going to the planes of his stomach. Even with his own come smeared and drying on his skin, Stiles doesn't feel gross. If anything, he's luxuriating in his present condition (which he'd never admit, he's never been one to be overly enthused about semen).

When Derek's thumb rubs over a nipple, Stiles whines at the jolt of sensation. But then Derek is talking and Stiles is looking up and noting the frown and that won't do.

"You wouldn't hurt me," Stiles states confidently. Being shoved out of the way doesn't count. Stiles can and has handled that. As for emotional hurt? Derek may not be the best with words, but he's getting better. And now that Derek isn't the Alpha, there's less pressure on him. Stiles has the feeling that Derek is actually pretty caring if he let himself be.

"Peter says we're resilient," he goes on, his voice more like a purr as he steps in closer and when it becomes obvious that he's attempting to climb Derek like a tree, Derek actually hoists him up and Stiles wraps his legs around Derek's waist. He's then leaning in to rub his cheek against Derek's in an almost affectionate nuzzle. It's not the same feeling as Peter's face, but he likes it. "I bet you are too."

* * *

Peter needs to get here soon, Derek thinks as Stiles whines at the sensation of Derek's thumb brushing over his nipple. Derek swallows thickly, Because he's actually really into the sound that Stiles had made, and he can't help but wonder what other circumstances could draw it out of Stiles' throat. Is it what he _should_ be thinking? No. Stiles is essentially drugged right now, but Peter knows him and Peter had given reassurance. But Derek's genuine about his discomfort about the idea of hurting Stiles. What if he goes too far? What if Stiles wants too much? Derek swallows, really, he's going to do something about it, but then Stiles is stepping in closer, his voice low, reassuring, and Derek _shouldn't_ let it get to him, but he does.

"Stiles..." Derek begins hesitantly, but before he can say anything else, Stiles goes on, and then presses even closer. Derek takes a small step back, only to meet with the wall, and when he realizes that Stiles intends to get even closer, Derek contemplates the intelligence of this. Then, finally, he reaches down and helps Stiles to reach his desired perch. Stiles wraps his legs around Derek's waist and Derek's hands immediately go to Stiles' ass, and... fuck. He swallows, pupils dilating a little, because there is a very real part of him that would fuck Stiles if given the chance.

He shivers when Stiles leans in to nuzzle against his cheek, and he tries not to feel overwhelmed by _so much_ bare skin pressed against his own. Stiles' body is warm and solid, and his ass feels good in Derek's hands. Derek tentatively gives Stiles' ass a small squeeze, feeling the give of the flesh without trying to hurt him. He dips his fingers down into Stiles' cleft, just two of them, and Derek tries not to groan at the heat he can feel radiating from Stiles' body. This is overwhelming, but not in a bad way. Derek just wants to touch, wants to kiss, and so when he leans in and presses a kiss to Stiles' shoulder, he feels somewhat giddy over it.

"I try to be. Resilient, I mean. But you just came; you've got to be sensitive. Just... does this help? Me holding you?"

* * *

A lot of them are resilient, but especially the Hales. That family had been through a lot. Capital A, capital L - _a lot._ In another life there would be some mini documentary series on them. Stiles does think Derek is resilient for sticking around Beacon Hills despite all the tragedy and bad blood. And Stiles is really glad that Derek hadn't peaced out despite being saddled with annoying teenagers in the beginning (they're not _as_ annoying now, thanks).

Holding onto Derek like a monkey, Stiles feels safe. His cock is pressed between them and Derek is warm and firm and even familiar. Granted, this is more familiar than they've ever been before. Fingers sliding between his asscheeks has Stiles straining to get them closer to his hole. Yeah, it's slutty, but he's under the pollen voodoo, he can hardly be held accountable!

Derek's face leaning in to kiss his shoulder also has the stimulation of the beard scratching along his skin and Stiles shivers. This seems like a really hot dream because this is Derek Hale naked and holding him. Derek had just stroked him off too. Despite whatever attraction Stiles had harbored, he'd never thought anything would ever happen and now a few things have happened, so that's crazy cool.

But Derek is choosing to be all cautious which, under different circumstances, would be sweet. It isn't now, however. Now, Stiles just wants more. "Being sexual helps," Stiles retorts. "I can get off again. I'm sure of it. I need to." Stiles moves his mouth to whisper into Derek's ear. "Rub me _there_." His cock may be a little oversensitive, but his asshole isn't.

* * *

Derek doesn't need to be a werewolf to sense Stiles' impatience, but he can't really help himself. Stiles has been with Peter for awhile, and _Peter_ is the one who knows him. Derek... Derek doesn't know what Stiles' limits are, or what he likes. Aside from apparently deep-throating dicks and Stiles' apparent fixation with his facial hair. Derek doesn't miss the shiver that slides over Stiles' skin after Derek kisses his shoulder. Derek clutches him closer, pressing his chin to Stiles' shoulder in a slow, careful nuzzle just to test. He honestly doesn't mind this, doesn't mind the touching, but before Derek can figure out where to go from there, Stiles is leaning in closer and Derek feels arousal suddenly lance through him like a knife.

His mouth goes dry at the implication, and Derek needs to try twice before he manages to whisper a strained, " _what?_ " But it's clear that he's heard, because Stiles isn't exactly being subtle about what he wants. He keeps pushing his ass back against Derek's hand, and after a long few moments of indecision, Derek wets his lips and gives a shaky nod, his pupils dilating and briefly flickering blue before he manages to get control over that side of himself.

"Jesus Christ, Stiles..." Derek breathes, but he does what he'd been told.

He hikes Stiles up higher against his chest, feeling the rigid, silken slide of Stiles' cock against his abs as Derek carefully spreads his asscheeks apart. At first he just touches, almost tentative, and then Derek slides two fingers down to press against Stiles' hole. It's all heat and soft, wrinkled skin that Derek _desperately_ wants to explore. With a shudder, he bites his lip and then finally walks over to his dresser, holding Stiles with ease. Derek maneuvers his free hand down to the drawer and hastily pulls out a half-full tube of lube, which he makes a point to hand to Stiles. Stiles helps him squeeze some of it out onto his fingers, and when Derek's fingers touch back against Stiles' hole, he rubs slow, almost massages, and the lube makes it slick and thrilling.

* * *

Stiles can be demanding in bed, but that's only because he's comfortable with Peter and Peter enjoys him being bratty. Stiles doesn't mean to be nagging or annoying Derek now, but he can't help it. The need feels like a brand upon his skin - inescapable and unforgiving. So he tells Derek to touch his asshole. He knows Derek swings both ways (best way to be Stiles believes) so he knows that Derek won't be grossed out. After all, it had been Derek who had touched his ass first anyway.

Still, it takes Derek a few long seconds before he decides to nod and get to it. Stiles is pulled up a little higher and the drag of his dick against Derek is the best sort of tease. After he's spread, fingers dip and simply press against him. It has Stiles groaning, his eyelids fluttering. But it doesn't last long as Derek sees fit to retrieve lube and Stiles can't really blame him. Lube makes anything ass-related much better so Stiles doesn't complain.

Witnessing the perks of a werewolf sex-partner still has Stiles pleased. It's no chore for Derek to hold him and retrieve some lube. Once handed to him, Stiles is quick to uncap it and squeeze some onto Derek's fingers and then it's a slimy touch against him. Derek is slow but persistent and Stiles shakes as he strains into the touch and hides his face in the crook of Derek's neck. It's just a tease, but it's direct and it hints at _more_. Stiles' fingernails dig into Derek's shoulder blades as he holds on despite not needing to.

"Yeah, fuck yeah," Stiles hisses out before licking up Derek's neck to, once again, whisper in Derek's ear. "I'd let you fuck me," Stiles then shares. "Would you want that?"

* * *

Derek still can't believe this is happening, but it is. He drinks in the feeling of Stiles clutching so desperately at him as his fingers slowly rub over Stiles' hole. Derek feels heat and soft skin, and he knows without needing to test it that if he were to press his fingers in, they'd go. Peter is Stiles'... _something_ , after all, and considering they'd smelled like sex not too long ago, Stiles' body has to be used to being stretched open. Once, Derek might have been jealous (for no reason, he insists, because he's _not_ that type of guy) but right now the thought is oddly attractive. He bites his lip as he rubs at Stiles' hole, feeling Stiles' nails dig into his skin and hearing each hiss as it escapes Stiles' lips.

But Derek isn't expecting Stiles to lean up. He's not expecting the slow lick to his neck that has him tilting his head away to make more room, and he's definitely not expecting the press of Stiles' slick lips against his ear. Derek shudders deeply, sensation zipping down his spine as Stiles' voice murmurs so close. But what he's _saying_ is enough to get Derek's teeth suddenly clenched, a groan wrenching itself out of his throat. His hips jerk even if he's not half hard yet, but if Stiles keeps talking like that? He'll get there.

"Fucking _Hell_ , Stiles," Derek curses, and buries his face in against Stiles' shoulder, his teeth pressing before he remembers not to leave marks. He kisses instead, with a focused intensity that makes it clear he _wants_ to be biting, but doesn't. "Are you-- _yes_ , of course I'd want that. You-- fuck, really?" Derek asks, his voice hot, ragged, and a little pinched in wonder.

Even before Stiles answers, Derek is pushing, though, because he needs _something_. He slides his index finger down and then presses, and he moans under his breath when he slides the tip of his finger in slowly, using shallow thrusts to spread the lube around before pressing in deeper. Stiles is _burning_ inside, and the thought of feeling that has Derek aching.

* * *

He's slutty. Stiles is acting slutty, but hey, some magical witch flower had showered down some kind of sex pollen on him and he's doing the best he can do given the crazy circumstance. Derek smells, feels and sounds so good. Because after Stiles asks if Derek would want to fuck him, Derek groans and jerks from the question and it only has Stiles burning hotter with a hungry need. His nails dig into Derek's skin, but Derek will be just fine.

Derek's initial reaction is scandalized and it's just so Derek to want to hide from something that seems too big as the werewolf leans his face against Stiles' shoulder. It's almost cute. If Stiles wasn't so sex-crazed he'd maybe tease Derek over it, but now hardly seems like the appropriate time to be a jerk.

And anyway, one of Derek's finger pushes its way inside of him. It's just the tip at first with little thrusts that have Stiles' toes curling as a shudder travels down his body because that's definitely not going to be enough. No way. Stiles is whining and pushing back (once again, slutty) and thankfully Derek pushes in deeper and a familiar stretch follows. Now, there is usually a little bit of an awkward 'getting used to the sensation' phase, but not today. No. Today Stiles just wants to be madly fucked with one finger that hopefully becomes two and then three--

"Yes, really really," Stiles confirms and he's clenching around the one digit in pleasure, rocking back against it as best as he can. "Feels good, fuck me Derek, make me feel you."

* * *

Distantly Derek wonders if maybe this is something that he should ask Peter about first, but Derek doesn't think Peter would answer a call while driving. It's a flimsy excuse because he kind of doesn't want to ask in the event that Peter would say _no_. Stiles wants this, isn't that enough? Besides, Derek isn't sure how he's supposed to focus on anything else when his finger is sinking deeply into tight heat. Stiles makes a sound like it's all he's ever wanted and Derek feels a twist of low arousal that aches due to sheer sensitivity. He wets his lips, half-desperate, and when he feels Stiles' body clench around his finger, Derek presses his forehead to Stiles' shoulder and he groans roughly.

Stiles sounds so hot, so sweet, and Derek's pretty sure that he'd do anything for him at this point. Derek pumps steadily with his finger, feeling each clench around it as he thrusts it into Stiles' body. He's careful at first but when he realizes how much Stiles is rocking back and wiggling for more, Derek feels heat easing down sharply. He picks up the pace, his world narrowed in on Stiles' breathing and the hot clench of Stiles' body. He's going to blame that for what he misses.

"You two definitely look like you're enjoying yourselves."

Derek freezes. He gives the smallest jerk of surprise at the sound of Peter's voice, his finger still buried deep in Stiles' body. Derek looks up sharply over Stiles' shoulder and blinks, gaze snapping to his uncle, who's leaning against the door frame in a way that implies he's been there for more than just a few seconds. Derek's stomach flips with a different kind of heat and he's suddenly, acutely aware that he's naked, with Stiles wrapped around him, and Peter's just _there_ watching.

"How long--" Derek begins roughly, but he stops when Peter waves a hand at him.

"Don't concern yourself. Stiles," Peter's voice eases into something a little softer as he steps into Derek's bedroom. He crosses the distance between them, but instead of forcing Derek to relinquish his hold, Peter just reaches out with one hand and slides it up Stiles' side, leaning in to press a kiss to his shoulder. He doesn't need to look to see the way Derek tenses uncomfortably, but Peter ignores his nephew for the moment.

"How are you feeling? Is he taking good care of you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles does care about the friendship he's built with Derek and of course Stiles loves Peter and doesn't want this to get awkward. Honestly, he's nearly 100% sure that Peter can handle this. Peter has handled a lot of shit and still clawed his way out. It's Derek that Stiles is worried about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! As of right now, we are planning on converting this to a series & adding a few more additions (as separate stories) and exploring a legit poly arrangement, but for now this is complete! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
> 
> Enjoy the filthy and slightly feelsy sin. - Merry & Coffee

Now, Stiles has no complaints about his sex life with Peter. Zero. Nada. It's good. Really good. Sure, it's kinky and intense and Peter is pretty much the king of edging him, talking him off and making him scream - whether from pleasure or overstimulation. That's not all of it, though.

There are times when Stiles wakes up from a nightmare and Peter curls around him, whispering assurances amidst kisses until Stiles falls asleep again. There are also times when Stiles isn't up for crazy mad fucking and Peter will rock into him slow and touch him languidly like Peter's got all the time in the world. Stiles has discovered a many shades of grey within Peter (and not all of it has been pleasant).

But sex pollen apparently doesn't care about any of that. And while Stiles would like to fully put the blame on the flower, he knows there are still a few lingering feelings kicking around for Derek. Stiles doesn't feel bad or guilty over them. He thinks the notion of _omg you can only love/like one person at a time_ is a bit antiquated. He can't dictate what his heart or dick feels. Have you _seen_ Derek? Epitome of smoldering sexy and all that dark brooding? Stiles wants to actually make Derek happy too.

Although all he wants right now is _more_ , and Derek gradually gets the picture, fucking him harder and Stiles is getting louder, clearly lost in his own world until a clear voice rings out: Peter.

It causes Derek to stop, to actually freeze as if he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but this time the cookie jar is Stiles' ass. While Derek's head zips up to look over his shoulder at Peter, Stiles is more sluggish to respond as his body is not happy that the fingering has halted. Is he worried about Peter having found them? No. Peter is aware of the current situation and they both have discussed the potential threesome and all that's involved with that. This isn't an ownership thing. There's nothing for Peter to be jealous over.

Stiles is breathing quickly as he hears Derek try and talk and when he realizes Peter is coming closer, Stiles is finally looking over his shoulder. Peter's touch is familiar, but leaves him aching. Stiles wants to smile because Peter is _finally_ here, but a grimace is what shows up because his body just needs more.

"Kind of? We both got off but he's being too hesitant now - sorry, Derek but I'm _not_ going to break - uh, still really horny," Stiles mumbles out. "Need you both, I think."

* * *

Peter doesn't need to look at his nephew to see the panic in his eyes; he can smell it easily. Stiles, not (yet) a werewolf, remains none the wiser, but if Derek is expecting a snarl or a fight to protect what is supposedly Peter's, he's got another thing coming. There's wariness rolling off of Derek in waves, and Peter can see the flush of embarrassment creeping down Derek's throat in his peripheral vision, but as Stiles turns to face him, Peter has eyes only for him.

The room smells of sex, and Stiles' skin is beautifully flushed, but Peter doesn't like the dazed look in Stiles' eyes. And, considering he knows Stiles, one breath of the air is enough to tell Peter that his arousal has long since passed the point of discomfort.

The knowledge that Derek has apparently been afraid to break Stiles comes as no surprise, but Peter sees his nephew's expression pinch at the insinuation. Derek opens his mouth to object but then quickly seems to think better of it. Granted, it might be Stiles' desire to have them _both_ , as when Peter glances at Derek, his nephew's eyes are wide with shock.

"What? But-- Peter's here now, you don't need--" Derek trails off, awkwardly, and Peter eventually takes pity on him.

He reaches down with both hands, spreading Stiles' ass to bare where Derek's finger is buried in his hole. Peter touches Derek's hand and immediately Derek withdraws his finger, looking less than certain. Peter rolls his eyes and abandons the (clear, in his opinion) attempt to help and instead reaches out for the bottle of lube.

He quickly slicks his fingers, and when he steps in close to Stiles again, Peter reaches down and slides one of his fingers in deep to test, then judges Stiles ready for a second, which he follows the first up with. Peter's teeth find Stiles' throat from behind, and he bites, though not particularly hard.

"Insatiable as always. I'm not surprised. Stop gawking, Derek," he adds, when Derek eases his head back, undoubtedly unsure how to react to Peter being so close seeing as Derek is holding a naked Stiles.

"Stiles, do you want him to fuck you? If so, why not show him how _fragile_ you are, hm?" Peter suggests.

* * *

Peter's nearness does settle Stiles somewhat. He imagines some of it is due to their pack bond, the rest of it is simply the boyfriend-o-meter going off. When they had discussed a potential threesome it had never been with one of the pack. They'd assumed just an 'ole regular human guy or girl. While there are perks to having a werewolf as a partner (they can't catch anything sexually transmitted nor can they pass anything on and they're also rather strong), they'd both come to the conclusion that none of the pack was probably down for a roll in the hay with them.

Stiles is aware that Derek is Peter's _nephew_ , but apparently, incest is thought of differently in the werewolf community. It's rarer nowadays, but it's not all-out taboo. Werewolf biology dictates that no abnormalities would occur _if_ a pregnancy were to happen and sometimes it had just been easier to keep it in the family/pack than to involve outsiders. Outsiders plus werewolves haven't always worked out the best. Stiles only knows this because Peter had gone off on a tangent one afternoon.

Stiles may be sort of throwing Derek kinda under the bus - because most people put in Derek's situation _would_ be hesitant or uncertain - but Stiles can't exactly be all that understanding right now. He doesn't _want_ to be a dick, but he's not operating on all cylinders firing here. Stiles knows he wants Derek to stay, because more help and another hot body that Stiles is attracted to just makes sense to him. He needs all the help he can get, okay. They're battling a sex-crazed flower here! Stiles can't be bothered to try and explain this to Derek, however. Derek is still holding onto him and Stiles is still clinging.

When Peter's hands come to spread him open, Stiles' eyes widen as he tries to see what's coming. He likes the idea of Peter looking at him with Derek's finger inside. Having Peter's attention is always gratifying, Stiles likes how it makes him feel. That finger doesn't _stay_ however as Derek pulls it out for whatever reason (Stiles is pretty sure that's actually _not_ what Peter was intending). But then Peter's finger is pushing back inside and Stiles is giving a relieved moan. That moan only turns louder when another finger sinks in and Stiles feels more full.

A bite comes to his throat and Stiles gasps from the delightful jolt of sharpness. Not all bites need to be with fangs and leave a mark. His nails dig into Derek's skin and Peter isn't wrong: in this, Stiles is insatiable. The question posed to him has Stiles' whining.

"Fuck Peter, yeah I want that," Stiles pants out and the challenge isn't missed. He can show Derek that he's not fragile. Stiles is vigorously lifting himself off as best as he can to fuck himself back on Peter's waiting fingers. After a few jerky motions, he's gasping out, "Derek, finger me too."

The idea of Peter _and_ Derek's fingers inside, at the same? Out of this fucking world.

* * *

Derek doesn't think there are words to describe the uncertainty he's feeling now. Being like this with Stiles when Peter _hadn't_ been in the room is one thing, but Derek is _very_ aware that Stiles is _Peter's_ boyfriend. It's still weird to think about that, and Derek honestly thinks he'd be more comfortable with it if Peter just decided to snarl at him and chase him away from Stiles.

That would make sense to Derek; he understands being possessive, and the instincts that drive that notion. But instead of driving him away, Peter seems... blatant. Derek's frown deepens. It's not showboating, and it doesn't seem like flaunting. If anything, it's almost _coaxing_ , and Derek doesn't know what to do with that.

He's kind of naked in front of his uncle, holding his uncle's _partner_ (who is also naked) and up until mere seconds ago, Derek had his finger in Stiles' ass. This is so far out of Derek's element that it isn't even funny. But despite his discomfort and the instinct to back off, Stiles' touch isn't letting go, and if Derek's being honest... he doesn't want it to. Stiles' nails dig into his skin when Peter bites him, and Derek wets his lips.

It's Stiles' clear enthusiasm at the idea of _Derek_ fucking him that gets Derek's eyebrows drawing down, though. Derek darts a look at Peter, because there's no way that Peter could actually be okay with that, is there? But Peter looks lazy and satisfied, and Derek's left staring even as Stiles suddenly begins to shift, to squirm, and Derek realizes belatedly that Stiles is _fucking_ himself back on Peter's fingers. Derek shivers despite himself, his pupils darkening, and given the small, pleased sound that Peter makes, Peter's noticed.

But what Stiles _says_... Derek's eyes widen slightly. Behind Stiles, Peter chuckles against the nape of his neck and when he looks up at Derek, there's a spark of challenge in his eyes that Derek instinctively wants to meet.

"You heard the man," Peter drawls, one eyebrow arching. "He can take it. Do you _want_ it?"

Which is a complicated question. Peter doesn't need to be a werewolf to sense Derek's uncertainty, but neither he nor Stiles will push if Derek _does_ want out now. Peter doubts it, though. While Derek looks restless, he doesn't look like he wants to _leave_ , and after a moment, Derek swallows, hesitates, and then nods, almost like he's expecting Peter to snarl at him for it.

Peter just smirks. "Good. Come on, then. Stiles _does_ tend to get what he wants, in the end."

Peter slips one finger out of Stiles' body with an apologetic kiss to the nape of his neck. He only does it because Derek _still_ seems uncertain, but there's definitely a spark of aching heat in Derek's eyes when he presses his finger to the stretched rim of Stiles' hole and then slowly pushes his finger back in alongside Peter's. Peter watches, monitoring carefully, and then touches Derek's finger with his own. Derek gives a small start, clearly not expecting it, but Peter wastes no time in showing him precisely where Stiles likes to be touched.

It's a very simple matter to curl his own finger, forcing Derek's to do the same, and Peter doesn't need to feel the little gland under his finger to know Derek's found it. "You're not going to break him. He wants it rough."

And Derek, heart beating quicker in his chest, wets suddenly-dry lips again, and then lets Peter's finger guide him in the curl again, a little rougher, more insistent. He holds Stiles closer, and when Peter's second finger begins to carefully touch and slowly press inside, Derek redoubles his effort, determined to make Stiles feel good as a distraction.

* * *

This is nothing Stiles has thought of before. Even so, the very idea of Peter _and_ Derek fingering him seems really fucking hot. That's two people feeling him on the inside, stretching him out. That's two people who get to feel him clench and shudder. Stiles is pretty sure Peter has rubbed off on him because he doesn't think he'd have ever been this kinky before (then again, he's not thinking too clearly and it hardly matters; he's this kinky now and he's going to get what he wants).

Sure, this isn't the best circumstance to invite Derek into their bedroom - well, technically this is Derek's bedroom - but here they are. These are the circumstances they find themselves in. As horny and uncomfortable as Stiles may be, he really does hope that this doesn't blow up in anyone's face. He's not here to scar Derek for life (although really, a threesome with his uncle and uncle's boyfriend is _hardly_ the worst thing Derek has gone through).

Stiles does care about the friendship he's built with Derek and of course Stiles loves Peter and doesn't want this to get awkward. Honestly, he's nearly 100% sure that Peter can handle this. Peter has handled a lot of shit and still clawed his way out. It's Derek that Stiles is worried about.

But not worried enough _not_ ask Derek to finger him as well. There's a one-sided exchange between Derek and Peter (which Stiles isn't surprised by, Peter's always been a talker). The little remark about Stiles getting what he wants in the end has Stiles almost laughing (it's true). Not quickly enough, Peter is sliding a finger out (and Stiles is pretty sure he could just take three, it may burn, but with enough lube he'd be okay), but it's probably done for Derek's sake.

Stiles stops moving, huffing and biting his lip as Derek reaches around again and _ohmygod_ when Derek's finger slides alongside Peter's, Stiles' head lolls back.

It feels only slightly different, but the _knowledge,_ the fucking knowing that it's both Peter and Derek's finger inside of him at the same time that gets to Stiles. Peter - ruthless prick he is - goes for his prostate and he feels Derek's finger adjust and Stiles is tensing and wiggling at the frisson of sensation that shoots through him. Stiles is opening his mouth to agree with Peter's sentiment - that he wants it rough - when Derek seems to take it to heart and fucking rubs harder. Stiles feels himself leak, his cock throbs and he's crying out curses amidst a _Derek_ and _Peter_ thrown in.

Stiles' eyes are squeezed tightly shut and his cries only diminish as he focuses on the dual sensation of Derek rubbing his prostate and Peter working another finger in. He's shaking, feeling the stretch combined with the antsy almost-too-good pleasure radiate from Derek's finger. When there's three fingers deep, Stiles is panting and pushing back, obviously wanting to get fucked.

"Please," he begs.

* * *

Stiles is a vision like this. True, a great deal of the sexuality rolling off of him in waves is likely need from the spell, but Peter has always found Stiles an inherently sexual creature, and Derek's quickly realizing it himself. Peter steps in closer when Stiles' head lolls back, and as both he and Derek finger Stiles open, Peter presses numerous biting kisses to Stiles' throat, his shoulder, all the way up the side of his jaw.

Stiles looks like he's basking in it but also like he can't quite contain the need racing through his body. Derek's pupils are dark, obviously taken by the picture that Stiles makes, but as Peter works a third finger into Stiles and hears him begin to beg, as Stiles' body clenches down around them so perfectly, Peter doesn't hesitate to whisper soft filth into Stiles' ear, breath hot and words like a physical touch.

"That's it, sweetheart, we know you need this. Relax and let us feel you. I can smell that you're leaking all over yourself, it's practically indecent, but so hot. You need it _so_ badly, don't you."

It's rhetorical; Peter can scent Stiles' need, can scent his desperation, but as he speaks, he also notes a different scent, thicker. It's familiar, and it doesn't take him long to peg it as Derek's arousal. Peter glances sidelong at his nephew from over Stiles' shoulder, taking in the blown pupils, the flush to his skin, and the small crease on his brow. Peter's lips twitch into a smirk, and Derek swallows. Despite any uncertainty, it's clear that he's not going anywhere with Stiles begging so prettily and pushing back with such desperation.

Peter can see questions in Derek's eyes, can see a need to understand, but he doesn't feel like explaining right now. Instead Peter presses his fingers in deep, delighting in the wet sounds of their fingers fucking into Stiles' body. Derek, quick learner that he is, soon matches Peter's pace, going from tentative to a little harder. Every sound that Stiles makes has Derek's scent spiking, and Peter reaches around with his free hand, settling it against the flexing muscles of Stiles' abdomen, rubbing small drops of precome into his skin with satisfaction. Time to step it up.

"If you want his cock, be good and ask him to give it to you," Peter murmurs against the shell of Stiles' ear. He doesn't miss the soft, bitten-out groan that Derek lets out, though Peter almost chuckles at the awkward flush that steals over Derek's cheeks when he realizes something that _Peter_ said had prompted it.

"Look at him, holding back. Derek wants to fuck you so badly."

* * *

This has got to be like a crazy euphoric drug trip of some kind. Stiles is nearly overwhelmed, his body so wound up but still craving _more_. Derek is holding him securely and Peter is right there too, behind him and kissing along his skin, the scratch of pretentiously groomed facial hair nice and familiar. As good as it feels to be sandwiched between two hot bodies and having three fingers inside of him, there's an element of luxuriating in the _want_ that he almost swears he can feel rolling _off_ of both Derek and Peter. The focus, their attention, their desires? It only stokes the fire.

Peter's words are molten, his tone sultry and it gets Stiles clenching and whining, unabashed. He can't form words, but he's speaking through his body right now. He's said _please_ and he's rocked back, demonstrating what he needs right now. Stiles feels the change, fingers pressing in deep and he assumes it's Peter that's taken the mantle up.

Soon enough, all the fingers inside of him are moving in unison and Stiles feels so fucking full and alive, like every nerve is tingling. He's panting as he meets their thrusts, moans leaving his mouth freely and loudly. He may have taken a shower less than thirty minutes ago, but Stiles definitely feels sweaty and dirty again but he can't be bothered to care.

It honestly takes a few seconds to process what Peter whispers next: that he needs to ask Derek for his cock. By the time he does understand, Peter is commenting about Derek holding back and Stiles doesn't like the insinuation. He doesn't want any of them holding back.

With more effort than he'd like, Stiles is lifting his head up to look at Derek. Derek looks ever the picture of conflicted. Stiles can see that he _does_ want it, but he's also trying to cling onto some reservation. It's typical Derek, but it's also kind of hot because Stiles _knows_ that Derek is going to give in.

"I want your cock, Derek," Stiles states. "I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside me. You don't even need to wear a condom with - wait, Peter does he need to wear a condom?" Stiles is pretty sure the answer is no, it's just that when they had previously discussed a threesome it involved a regular 'ole human, and a condom was going to be involved so it both looked normal and so Stiles would be safe (because of course Peter didn't care if their addition caught anything).

* * *

Derek can't believe that this is his life. Everything that's happened almost feels like some impossible fever dream, because there's no way that this is actually happening. There's no possible way that Derek's actually fingering Stiles open with his _uncle_ helping, but Derek can feel Peter's fingers in Stiles' wet, tight heat pressing and coaxing his own.

It's impossibly hot, but weird because Peter is still his uncle, and Derek doesn't know how to feel about this. It's not that he _means_ to hold back, but he's still not sure of this dynamic, and he doesn't know what's expected of him. Peter helps him set a pace that gets Stiles panting and squirming and Derek's cock aches like crazy at the sight.

It's when Stiles seems to listen to Peter and look at Derek that he knows he's lost. There's no way that he's going to deny Stiles anything when Stiles is looking at him like _that_. Derek stares, lips parted, breathing a little heavier himself as Stiles just... up and begs for his cock. Derek doesn't need to pretend to bite back a groan; he needs to, because all he wants to do all of a sudden is pull his finger out and bury his dick in Stiles' ass, feel that hot clench around him and make Stiles cry out.

Derek glances at Peter when Stiles asks about the condom, and he feels weird for doing it. In a way, it feels like _he's_ also asking Peter for permission (and he doesn't like the thought of being at his uncle's mercy in any way). But instead of looking torn, there's heat in Peter's eyes that makes a shiver run up Derek's spine. He's never seen Peter look like that before.

"He's a werewolf," Peter answers, his teeth scraping over the shell of Stiles' ear. His fingers curl, forcing Derek's to do the same, and it's clear that they're on the same page as far as getting Stiles desperate. "You can't catch anything from him. If you don't want him to wear a condom, and he's all right with that, no condom is fine."

"Yeah," Derek blurts out, not really intending to speak, but his dick feels practically painful when it throbs again. He watches Peter smirk against Stiles' ear, watches him do something complicated with his tongue against the shell of it, and he swallows before looking at Stiles. "Yeah, I'm okay with that. _Fuck_ , Stiles. I want that. How..."

"How do you want him, Stiles?" Peter asks, picking up the question that Derek had let trail off. "Do you want him to hold you up and fuck you right here? Or maybe the bed. You could always ride him and show him how much you want him."

* * *

Stiles knows that there is a perception that not using a condom is a bad thing because of the health risks, but in getting down and dirty with a werewolf, Stiles doesn't need to worry about him catching something from them or passing on anything (Stiles is clean anyway, kay thanks). The idea of feeling Derek's dick with no condom on and knowing that Derek could (and should and hopefully _will_ ) come inside of him has Stiles all kinds of hot and bothered.

Even if it's what Stiles wants and is craving, he won't do it without Peter's permission. Two of Peter's fingers and one of Derek's is inside of him, how could he forget about Peter? Peter's his partner and Stiles has the feeling that Peter is going to be leading the charge here, too (which Stiles wouldn't have any other way). As much as Stiles is into doing this with Derek, Peter's presence brings a familiar reassurance that Stiles craves in a different way.

Stiles doesn't mind asking. It feels good to ask and be demanding, to be assertive (slutty) and it's not even _all_ the flower's fault. Stiles sees Derek look past him, Derek addressing Peter for the answer. When Peter replies, the answer is no surprise but the teeth against his ear have Stiles shuddering. That shudder turns into a full-bodied jerk as the fingers inside of him pointedly curl. Stiles clenches around the fingers in his ass, hungry and sensitive and when he hears Peter's permission, Stiles licks his lips in anticipation.

Stiles is giving a weak smile at Derek's breathless agreement. Peter is making it rather difficult to stay composed as his clever tongue flicks against Stiles' ear, sending shivers down his spine and god, Stiles' likes Peter's mouth a lot. The question of positioning is the next order of business and as Peter details two possible options, Stiles' eyes flutter shut as he tries to sort through them.

Derek could _easily_ hold Stiles up and fuck into him, but Stiles riding Derek is also really freakin' hot because Stiles could take him in and _also_ could do stuff with Peter.

"On-- on the bed, yeah," Stiles agrees and he gives a telling insistent squirm indicating that he wants to get on with it. Fingers slip out of him and Derek's gentle as he puts Stiles down. Stiles then pushes at Derek, playful but committed to this. "Go, bed, lay down."

Derek only hesitates for a moment before going and Stiles turns to Peter. Stiles is naked, his cock hard and leaking and there's dried come on himself, but there's no shame present. Peter is used to him being a mess. Peter's made him messy a lot, too.

"I'm glad you're here," Stiles murmurs as he steps close and his head bows, resting his forehead against Peter's chest as his arms loop around Peter's waist in a weak hug. "I want you near me, watching me fuck Derek... I want to suck your cock too." Stiles wants all the things.

* * *

The change of position happens seamlessly. Peter isn't surprised. Derek, ever the quick study, reads Stiles' little squirm for what it is. After a quick look at Peter to confirm (who nods), he draws his finger out, lets Stiles down, and hesitates for no more than a second or two before he immediately turns and goes for the bed. His walk is a little stiff, and Derek shoots a small look over his shoulder, as if uncertain, but Peter doesn't have the time to spare Derek any heed. If his nephew is having difficulties with the notion of being naked in front of his uncle, Peter will deal with it later, when Stiles _isn't_ slowly turning to face him.

Peter's focus changes naturally, his lube-slicked fingers levering away from Stiles' skin as he loops his arms around Stiles' torso in a quick hug. Peter's demeanor softens almost instantly, and while he _is_ aware of Derek watching as he settles himself onto the bed, Peter leans down and presses a kiss to Stiles' forehead, welcoming the brief stolen moment of closeness.

Stiles smells of come and arousal and need, but the way that Stiles all but melts in against him tells Peter all he needs to know. Sexual satisfaction is important, but so is the feeling of _connectedness_ , of _permission_.

"Whatever you need, Stiles," Peter says softly, lips brushing against Stiles' ear. "I can't wait to see you ride him. I'm sure he can't either. If you're ready, come on. Let's not leave Derek waiting, hmm?" Peter asks, and waits only until Stiles looks up at him before he leans in and steals a quick kiss - far too chaste to be anything but reassuring and familiar.

Peter looks over at Derek then, who looks distinctly uncertain, undoubtedly reading the intimacy correctly. Peter smirks and with very little effort, he scoops Stiles up into his arms and walks him over to the bed. Peter gives Derek basic instructions - to brace Stiles' hip with one hand and help Stiles lower himself down - and Derek complies easily. It isn't too much longer before Stiles is straddling Derek's lap, Derek's cock flushed and arcing up to rub enticingly against the skin of Stiles' ass.

Admiring the sight, Peter smirks, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction. He hums a soft sound, pleased, and he takes the bottle of lube from before. He's halfway through opening the cap when Derek clears his throat immediately, sounding awkward. Peter glances at him, and it takes real effort not to laugh at the small scowl on Derek's face.

"Oh come now, there's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Bottle," Derek says flatly, holding out one hand. To his immense relief, Peter hands it over after a truly impressive roll of his eyes. Derek immediately pours a generous amount of lube onto his palm and reaches down, stroking the slick over his _own_ dick. He doesn't need _Peter_ doing that for him, thanks. Derek turns his attention to Stiles then, looking up at him, and he forgets his awkwardness almost immediately.

Derek swallows. "Are... you ready?"

"Go ahead, sweetheart," Peter instructs gently, stepping in closer to the bed. He leans down to press a kiss to Stiles' shoulder, then another just below Stiles' ear. "Let me see you take _all_ of him in. That first stretch is always the best for you."

* * *

There are a lot of wants racing through Stiles' head. He wants stuff done to him, at him, on him, near him. He wants to do stuff to others too - to Derek and to Peter specifically. Stiles is amped up on _sexsexsex_ , all cylinders are firing, and both gorgeous and sexy Hales are going to help him. (Because the idea of _not_ being helped, the idea of being _helpless_ and powerless to this thing effecting and dominating his body is too much to take, Stiles can't handle it.)

Close to Peter, all but clinging to him and being hugged in return, settles Stiles. His pack bond with Peter hums contentedly and Peter's reassurance _and_ his interest in watching what's going to happen have Stiles' stomach flip-flopping with anticipation. He kisses back, hungry for more, but knowing that mere kissing won't do enough to settle him.

Peter picks him up and in a matter of few seconds they're by Derek's bed and Peter is lowering him down on top of Derek who helps steady him. Stiles' legs are on either side of Derek's thighs and as much as he wants to reach down, grab onto Derek's dick and lift his ass up to sit himself down on it, Stiles doesn't scramble and do that. More lube is needed. He may be horny as fuck, but not all holes at made equally.

It becomes apparent that Peter had been planning on lubing up Derek's dick (totally fine with Stiles) but Derek's expression and throat clear are obvious enough. Derek demands the bottle and Peter is smart enough to not rile the other Beta up and hands it over. Derek makes quick work of applying the lube and Stiles bites his bottom lip in anticipation because they're _finally_ getting closer to having Derek's cock inside of him. Stiles' eyes are bright as he glances down at Derek, still surprised that this is happening, but there Derek is, underneath him.

Stiles gives a quick nod at Derek asking if he's ready and Peter's kiss and words spur Stiles on. He's rushing to lift up and reach a hand between his legs to hold Derek's dick still as he positions his wet, desperate hole over it.

"'m gonna do it," Stiles says, already sounding breathless. He's not slow as he sinks down onto Derek's cock, his mouth falling open in a groan at the still slight burn of being stretched open by a rather impressive dick. It's intense and exquisite and Stiles' palms flatten out against Derek's chest as he bottoms out.

"Oh my god, yes," Stiles hisses as his head falls back, eyes closing as he basks in the utter fullness.

* * *

Derek still can't believe that this is happening. Cock slick with lube, Stiles reaching between his legs to grab onto Derek's dick, and Derek _still_ can't believe it. A distant part of his mind thinks that this can't be possible, but he knows it is.

This is no fever dream. This is real life, and so he can't quite help the way his eyes darken when Stiles hastily lifts himself up, practically yelling his eagerness to Derek's instincts as he moves. Derek's hands find Stiles' hips but he doesn't grip. He just touches, breathing a little quicker. Yeah, Peter being there is... weird, but Peter's also _allowing_ this, and Derek's not about to look that gift horse in the mouth.

Even so, there is nothing in the world that could have prepared him for how _good_ Stiles' body feels. Derek's expecting Stiles to take his time, to work his way down slowly, so when Stiles' hole goes from a light press against the head of his dick to just up and taking the whole thing in, Derek gasps raggedly and throws his head back with a rough curse.

He feels his hands tighten and he's distantly worried that he's hurting Stiles, but then he realizes that it's his own nails digging into his own palms. Derek has a second to be dazed and confused, but then Stiles is eagerly sinking down onto his cock, and Derek can't pay it any mind. Stiles' body is hot and tight and fucking _perfect_ , and it's all he can do to keep from snapping his hips up, especially when Stiles sounds so fucking blissful.

When Stiles bottoms out, Derek bites back an honest-to-god whimper, his hips lifting of their own accord. He's careful not to just go for it and he does struggle to keep himself contained. Oddly, it's a quick stroke at his wrists that helps to center him, and it doesn't take him long to understand: Peter. Peter had grabbed his wrists when Stiles had taken him in, and while Derek feels like he should protest the touch, he's just kind of glad that Peter had guessed what he'd do, correctly.

"That's right, Stiles. He feels _good_ , doesn't he? Hits all the right spots," Peter is murmuring into Stiles' ear, his voice low and hot even to Derek's ears. He can't help but shiver, caught between being weirded out still, but also needing to admit that this _is_ hot. If Peter had been anyone else, Derek would have already given over to it. Still. It's the principle of the thing.

"Fucking Hell, Stiles," Derek finally manages, his fists unclenching. He feels the rhythmic stroke along his pulse point, feels where Stiles' hands have set themselves on his chest, and all Derek can do is look up at Stiles, dazed and awed. He only distantly notices Peter finally letting go of his wrists, though he doesn't miss the heat in Peter's eyes as Peter glances down. Derek knows immediately that Peter is looking at where he and Stiles are joined, and when one of Peter's fingers touches Stiles' rim, where he's stuffed full, Derek isn't even angry.

He can feel the edge of Peter's finger and it's fucking _hot_.

Derek's hands find the sheets instead, deeming them safer. He looks up at Stiles, still awed. "God, you feel good."

* * *

Stiles knows he should probably be more considerate toward Derek. Derek is obviously still weirded out by the whole, gettin' sexual with your uncle's boyfriend-thing. The fact that Peter is watching, going to be involved and obviously not bothered by the familial relation is also a thing. But Stiles is having a difficult time trying to be level-headed and patient here.

He's still himself, he's still in control of what he's doing, there's just an insistent needing thrumming through him. Plus, Stiles still has the hots for Derek. This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity to get down and dirty (again and again) with Derek.

Stiles could have taken his time, it would burn less if he had, but Stiles doesn't mind pushing himself. He's taken Peter's dick up his ass more than a few times. This isn't his first rodeo. Still, there's the uncomfortable stretch but if anything, it's grounding. Stiles knows exactly where he is, what he's doing and who he's with. Stiles gasps as Derek's hips just lift a little, cock edging that much deeper.

Peter's whisper is pure filth that Stiles has grown to appreciate. It does feel good and Derek's dick inside does hit all the right spots. When Derek's voice sounds in a curse, Stiles is opening his eyes and looking back down at the werewolf underneath him.

He smiles at Derek, obviously pleased by the response. Stiles' pulse is pounding and he's breathing fast, gearing up to ride Derek's dick into town when he feels a _new_ additional touch - Peter's finger along his stretched hole.

This has Stiles moaning as he shakes and looks back at Peter, an almost feral glint in his eye. "You feel how full I am?" Stiles asks, voice ragged. It's a rhetorical question, of course.

And then Stiles is moving. He lifts off a few inches before slamming himself back down on Derek's cock before repeating the action. "Bet-- I bet after Derek's cock has stretched me open more that-- that you could add a finger," Stiles then says. He seems intent on getting to that point because he begins eagerly fucking himself on Derek's cock, working himself open, the burn lessening at each pass.

* * *

It really is pure indulgence that makes Peter reach down to where Derek and Stiles are joined. He thinks little of it at first, as he often enjoys reaching down to feel Stiles' stretched rim around _his_ cock. Typically he can't see it without the help of a mirror, though, so getting to _see_ the way Stiles' hole pales so prettily around Derek's cock is an added thrill.

Derek doesn't seem to react, though Peter does hear his pulse skip once before it regulates again. One glance is all it takes for Peter to see the arousal written on Derek's face, and it's very clear that there will be no hiding from this at a later date. Peter sets the notion aside, as frankly, the way that Stiles moans and looks back at him catches Peter's attention far more.

Stiles' words are absolute filth and Peter smirks at the sound of them. He leans in, ghosting his lips over Stiles' cheek to show his satisfaction, and Peter strokes his finger along Stiles' rim once before Stiles takes matters into his own hands. He lifts himself up sharply and then fucks himself back on Derek's cock so suddenly that Derek strangles a groan in the back of his throat, his fingers grabbing hard at the sheets. Peter can't blame him. Stiles can be _very_ demanding when the moment calls for it, and this is apparently just that moment.

But what Stiles adds - that Peter could add a finger once he's adjusted - is enough for even Peter to go still. Derek's breathing hitches, the sound ragged, and Peter's eyes flicker bright electric blue for one sharp second before he reins himself back in.

"Well, isn't _someone_ feeling greedy today," he says, his voice smoother with purpose. He strokes his hand up Stiles' back and down again, all but petting his fingers along Stiles' stretched rim whenever his hand passes down. Peter swallows; he doesn't doubt that Stiles could take more, especially with the way he's going to town on Derek's cock. And, speaking of... "What do you think, Derek? Do you think he could take it? Could _you?"_

It takes Derek a moment to really catch up, because how is he supposed to focus with Stiles riding him like it's going out of style? But when he registers that Peter is asking _him_ , Derek tries to bite back a groan but fails miserably. He looks up at Stiles, his brow furrowed, his back starting to arch and hips moving of their own accord. Somehow Peter's touching seems so much less important with Stiles' body all _searing_ heat and tightness around him. He nods jerkily and shudders, trying to let Stiles set the pace, but it's damn difficult.

"Y-yeah," he manages, rough. " _Fuck_ , yeah, I could. If he could."

"I think he can. I'd take that bet. He _loves_ to be full, don't you, Stiles? Almost as much as you like to be held down and fucked," Peter says, teeth catching at Stiles' earlobe with a low growl.

* * *

It's a dirty and delicious thought that Stiles has shared. It's out now, Derek and Peter having heard it, and it has its hooks in Stiles' mind and it's not letting go. Stiles wants it. He wants to be stretched full. He wants to push himself and he wants both Derek and Peter to be involved with it. But to get to that point, to even entertain that idea, Stiles needs to be much more loose. There's only one way to do it and that's to fuck himself silly on Derek's cock.

Peter is right: he is feeling greedy. Stiles wants it all, wants them both touching him everywhere and he wants to touch them both. Peter's hand pets down his back, soothing up until the point where fingers run over the edges of his stretched hole (which is sensitive in its own right). Stiles distantly hears the question posed to Derek, but he's focusing on lifting himself up and then slamming back down, skin slapping filling the room. Stiles' hands stay braced on Derek's chest he works Derek's cock. Stiles sees a similar hunger reflected in Derek's eyes that only encourages him more.

Derek agrees, claiming that he could take it if Stiles could and that has Stiles grinning at the challenge of it. Oh, it's on. His own dick is heavy and bouncing between them as he tries to ignore the growing fatigue in his muscles. It feels good to hear that Peter believes he could do it. Peter is the master of dirty talking and he proves it by mentioning how Stiles likes to be full and how he may like it as much as being held down and fucked (which Peter is really good at.)

"God, yeah, yes," Stiles mumbles out. His pace turns a bit stilted before Stiles makes the decision to just lean forward over Derek, his hands coming to rake into Derek's hair along the sides. Like this, his ass is more on display and more easily accessible to Peter. Like this, his mouth brushes a kiss across Derek's own.

"Fuck me hard and fast, stretch me open for Peter," Stiles demands. He then gets an idea how it could be better facilitated.

Stiles' arms reach behind his back and he clasps his hands together. "Hold my wrists, baby," he murmurs to Peter. Peter can lift and keep his arms pinned back which should take some of the weight off Derek (which Derek doesn't need, but the position and idea seems fucking hot).

* * *

Peter doesn't need to be able to read minds to know that Derek is quietly marveling over what he's gotten himself into. He can see the pleasure burning in Derek's eyes, can see the desperation in his eyes and the furrow to his brow as he watches Stiles with open awe. Peter's not surprised; Stiles knows how to go for what he wants, but when he's feeling _particularly_ needy, he can even surprise Peter sometimes with the voracity in which he goes for it.

There might always be the distant realization that Peter can't hold Stiles down and fuck him with all his strength, but Stiles can take a surprising amount for a human. It's enough, and given how quickly and desperately he's riding Derek now, Derek's learning that little fact on his own.

They look _hot_. While Peter doesn't draw attention to it, he's hard, his dick practically straining in his jeans as he sweeps an appreciative gaze over Stiles and Derek. Watching Derek's cock disappear into Stiles' ass, watching the clench of muscles, getting to _feel_ the way Stiles' skin stretches tight over Derek's dick... it's like a feast for the eyes.

So when Stiles leans down and tells Peter what he wants, Peter's eyes glint in approval. He sees the shocked, dazed look on Derek's face from Stiles' little kiss (something to think about later) and when Derek darts a look at him, almost as if he's grudgingly asking for permission, Peter nods his approval. He's not expecting the quiet simmer of power he feels inside at the sight, but he's certainly not complaining.

Instead, Peter reaches down and one hand finds Stiles' wrists. They're hardly thin and delicate, but Peter _can_ enfold them both in one hand. Peter pulls back, but just as he's pulling back on Stiles' wrists, he reaches over with his other hand to curl around Stiles' shoulder, pulling him back like that too so as to equalize the pressure. Peter still gets to watch Stiles' shoulder-blades bunch, still gets to watch the alluring bow to his spine, and after a quick look at Derek, he gets to see something else.

Derek, for his part, might still be overwhelmed with everything that's happening, but that doesn't mean that he's not going to do _exactly_ what Stiles wants him to. Lips still tingling from that soft kiss, Derek watches the way Stiles' shoulders pinch back and he looks down between them to see Stiles' cock brush against Derek's abdomen. Derek can't help it; he looks at Peter to make _sure_ that this is what Stiles wants, and the nod is almost instantaneous.

Cock throbbing, pulse picking up, Derek wets his lips and, breathing a little harder, he shifts under Stiles to adjust his angle and then snaps his hips up. He can't help but be a little weirded out that he needs to look at Peter to make sure that it's not too hard.

"He can take harder," Peter tells him, and Derek muffles a small groan in the back of his throat, relaxing just enough to trust that Peter knows Stiles better than he does. (Which burns, but it's fair. Derek's not thinking about it.)

He snaps his hips up harder, listening to the smack of skin-on-skin, and only when he feels like Stiles actually _can_ take it does Derek throw himself into it. He shudders and curses, Stiles' body tight and gripping, but all that wet heat just makes Derek more determined to go for it. He fucks Stiles like he means it, hard enough that he's a little worried that he's going to bruise Stiles' ass, but not worried enough to _stop_.

* * *

The thing about getting held down and fucked silly is, you have to feel safe. The same thing goes for any type of bondage or restriction-play. Stiles has a safeword with Peter. Peter also can hear his heartbeat, he can pick up the subtle differences in arousal and discomfort or even fear. As kinky and rough as Peter can be, Peter doesn't actually _want_ him scared. So Stiles had no problem telling Peter to hold his arms behind his back. He trusts that Peter will use enough force but not enough to injure him.

Stiles feels a jolt of arousal go through him as Peter grasps onto his wrists and pulls his arms back. Stiles only moans and straightens himself out as much as possible to feel the slight tension. Of course Peter also braces his shoulder to make sure he's not going to wrench anything out of place (his boyfriend is the best).

It's really no surprise that Derek hesitates and doesn't immediately go for it. Derek had, somehow, remained still when Stiles had been riding him. This is inviting Derek to go all out. Apparently looking to Peter and getting permission is paramount because Stiles watches Derek do it. Being held by Peter helps calm Stiles some and he doesn't taunt Derek for being too careful (it'd probably be sweet in a different situation).

Like this, it's difficult to turn and see Peter easily but Peter must give an affirmation of some kind because Derek is shifting and then it comes - a hard thrust - and Stiles is panting and squirming to try and push back against Derek's cock, eager and hungry. Stiles misses the look Derek sends to Peter, but it must be something because Peter is making a comment - assuring Derek - that he can take it _harder_...

Which is kind of super sexy that Peter is overseeing all of this and _encouraging_ Derek. When Derek finally gets into it, Stiles is crying out a litany of _fuck's_ and Derek's name. His throat is beginning to feel raw from the sheer amount and volume of sounds that he's made but he can't help it; he can't stop it.

Derek pounds into him, his body jerking with each thrust, but through it all Peter holds him, supporting him so that he doesn't sag onto Derek. Peter adjusts him ever so slightly and then it's a shot of intense almost-too much pleasure as Derek's cock begins nailing his prostate relentlessly. Stiles is tensing and writhing, his hole clenching around Derek's dick as if trying to either draw him in more or push him out.

Stiles is then coming, forceful and surprising as he spurts over his own stomach and onto Derek's chest. Stiles doesn't ask for it to stop. He moans and strains to enjoy every single thrust. He instinctively knows it won't be enough; Stiles knows this is hardly done.

* * *

Derek doesn't really have any frame of reference over this. He doesn't know what Stiles looks like when he's getting fucked silly, and he doesn't know what the varying scents that go through him mean in relation to Stiles' movements. Peter does, though, and while Derek feels like he's going too hard, while he feels like there's no way that Stiles could take this the way he is, he suspects that Peter will stop him if he goes too far.

Derek isn't an Alpha anymore, and Peter will be able to hold him down if Derek begins to lose himself. Even if this is weird, even if it's impossible that his uncle is literally watching him have sex with Peter's _boyfriend_ , Derek's almost glad that he has that reassurance, because it removes that last barrier as he throws himself into this.

Stiles smells like sin personified. Derek's never heard anything hotter than his cries either as Derek's hips snap up and he fucks Stiles steadily, hips quick and cock driving in against hot, silken tightness. It feels like an indulgence that he doesn't deserve, and getting to see the way that Stiles' expression crumples and tightens with pleasure makes him feel impossibly lucky. Derek loses himself in the quick snap of his hips, listening to the litany of sounds. The curses alone have him flushing, but it's the cries of his name that go right to his dick and make him bite the inside of his cheek to stay focused.

Derek doesn't know Stiles' body, but Peter does. He scents the sudden increase of scent from Stiles, scents the increase of his arousal and listens to the raw edge his cries take. But it isn't until he feels Peter's knee settle on the bed next to his leg that Derek darts a look at his uncle and knows, without needing to ask, that Stiles is close. There's an intense look in Peter's eyes, something hot and focused, and Derek connects the dots quickly. So when Stiles suddenly begins to seize on top of him, when Stiles' shoulders pinch and his jaw drops and his dick jerks hard between them, Derek's only half-surprised.

It's all he can do to keep himself from following Stiles over that sharp edge. Derek feels close, and the way that Stiles' body tightens and clenches in twitching spasms around him have him snarling his own pleasure, an edge of desperation in his voice. Derek hisses out sharply between his teeth, a low sound of Stiles' name. He wants to stop, wants to give Stiles time to recover, but when he begins to slow, Peter makes a small sound of negation and just holds Stiles back tighter.

"A little more. He likes feeling _everything_. He'll let you know when he needs a break."

Which is... _so_ much hotter than Derek can say. He swallows thickly and his hands finally find Stiles' hips. He doesn't dare touch Stiles' cock, afraid of hurting him, but he does grip at Stiles' hips as he fucks up into him, and each thrust feels like one more thing that he shouldn't be allowed to have. It's perfect, it's sharp, and Derek _could_ come like this. Except...

Peter pinches him. Hard. Derek jerks, hissing, and realizes belatedly that Peter's taken the hand from Stiles' shoulders. Derek's about to snarl at him, but a quick shake of Peter's head makes the anger die down into curiosity. Derek watches as Peter leans down, his lips brushing the shell of Stiles' ear again, and even Derek feels his cock twitch at the heat in Peter's voice.

"You need to take a little break before I stretch you open more, Stiles? I think Derek's done a perfect job loosening you up for him."

* * *

It's Stiles' second orgasm with Derek. Or is it his third? Stiles can't even remember now. Things are beginning to blur and criss cross. It's hard to think of much when he's finally (finally?) getting frisky with and fucked by Derek. Stiles can't help it. He's thought and fantasized about Derek in the past and now in a way it's like a dream coming true, a fantasy in the flesh. Derek's all hard defined muscles underneath him, cock thick and full, handsome face...

It's intense and perfect and Stiles thinks there's actually tears in his eyes from how sudden his orgasm had been forced out of him. Peter holds him back tightly and despite how weak and strung out that Stiles feels, he's supported. Through his gasping and aftershocks, he distantly registers Peter's instruction to Derek - for Derek to keep going. His dick throbs with arousal as he feels Derek's hands take his hips before Derek continues fucking into him. Somehow it's much better now that Derek is holding him, now that there's more points of connection between all of them really. Despite coming, Stiles' cock still feels heavy and hard.

The fucking quickly edges into oversensitivity but Stiles doesn't actually _want_ it to stop, he wants to be pushed more and he wants Derek to keep on ramming into him. It's when Derek suddenly jerks that Stiles blinks and tries to re-focus to figure out just what's going on. He assumes that Peter's done something, but Peter quickly makes it known what he's interested in - stretching Stiles more.

This is happening. Derek and Peter. A stupid flower started it, but he's living with the consequences (which really aren't that bad all things considered).

"No break," Stiles answers, voice a rasp. "I'm good, just don't think-think I can necessarily hold myself up any longer."

* * *

Peter doesn't need to look at Derek to see the mild irritation in his eyes, though he does take inward pleasure over the knowledge that it's there. When Peter had first arrived back at the loft, Derek had been withdrawn and awkward, and while there are still elements of it, he's clearly loosened up a little himself over the notion of anything sexual happening with Peter close. Derek hadn't let Peter slick lube over his cock, but now he seems fine with the notion of Peter's finger sliding in alongside his dick. Either Derek hasn't realized it yet, or he's too aroused to care. Peter's betting on the last one, as one breath is all it takes for him to lock away how thick the arousal is on the air.

Stiles - desperate, needy, and so very enticing - is quick to dismiss the notion of a break, and Peter breathes through the ache that throbs through him, his cock straining against the front of his jeans. Soon, he thinks. And while he's definitely teased Stiles with a finger while Stiles has been riding him before, Peter's not pushed beyond that. That's about to change.

Peter reaches out with the hand that had pinched Derek's hip and he rakes his fingers back slowly through Stiles' hair, soothing.

"All right. I'm going to lower you down," he warns, and then carefully does what he'd said.

Peter waits until Stiles is settled on Derek's chest (and watches with some satisfaction as Derek's hands slide up Stiles' back, touching and reassuring in his own, awkward way) and then Peter releases Stiles' wrists. He looks down at the picture that Stiles makes. He's gorgeous, his skin flushed and damp with sweat, his scent pure sin. But it's not _just_ Stiles that catches Peter's eye. He doesn't need to feel Derek's dick to notice how flushed it is, and one glance at Derek's face confirms that he's nearing desperation as well. Peter _had_ pinched him for a reason, after all.

"What do you think, Derek?" Peter asks, taking quiet delight in the surprise on Derek's face at being addressed. "Can you hold him up?"

"Of course I can." It's quick, snippish, and amusing. Then Derek pauses, looks down at Stiles - at the slight tremble in his muscles - and he wets his lips, nervous. He darts a look at Peter. "Actually... sit him up again. Turn him around. Might be more comfortable..."

Peter's eyes glint in satisfaction, and he doesn't waste time in mincing words. With Derek's help, it's a simple matter to ease Stiles back up and turn him around. Peter delights in the hissed sound that Derek makes, his cock still buried deep in Stiles' body, and with Derek's hands on Stiles' hips - keeping them lifted - Peter helps Stiles lay back against Derek's chest. Derek immediately presses his lips to Stiles' shoulder, nuzzling in closer, and Peter pets his way down Stiles' come-slick abdomen.

He skims his fingers over Stiles' hard cock, and with careful urging, he eases Stiles' legs up. One he lets hook over his shoulder, and he keeps the other one up with his hand. The angle is better like this, and the sight of Stiles' hole stretched so prettily around Derek's cock is... hot. Peter swallows, and he pauses only for a second to get the bottle of lube. When his fingers come back and skim around Stiles' hole, they're slick, adding to the lube present.

Instead of going for it, Peter strokes slowly, touching and encouraging Stiles to relax more. And when he finally does dare to press the tip of one slick finger into Stiles' hole, he doesn't miss the tighter sound that Derek makes, or the throbbing of his cock. It's _quite_ the mix of sensation.

Peter kisses the inside of Stiles' knee, watching him closely. "Going to go slow unless you tell me otherwise. Keep talking to me, Stiles. Let me know how this feels. Let us _both_ know."

* * *

A finger and a dick inside of him won't be completely new, but this is now _Derek's_ dick. Derek's dick is different than Peter's. Not different in a bad way, just different-different. Stiles thinks Derek might be thicker but Peter's cock longer? If this was some slightly more normal threesome, Stiles might have actually asked to compare, but he's not completely himself right now. There's no time to science dick sizes up.There's need and he's got Peter and Derek who are going to help him.

Stiles wonders how all of them smell together. To him it just smells like sweat and sex, but Peter and Derek could probably pick out all the intricacies. They could differentiate between whose arousal was whose (which Stiles thinks is hot). Both wolves could smell how their sweat and hormones intermingle, how Stiles' come is still on Derek.

Stiles is pliant as Peter lowers him down, his muscles aching pleasantly. Resting on Derek's chest is actually _nice_ as are Derek's hands stroking over his back. He's used to Peter's comforting actions, but Stiles definitely doesn't mind Derek's. Stiles faintly hears both Hales discussing logistics or something and then apparently some decision is made and he's pushed back up and between the two of them, Stiles rotated around on Derek's cock (which would be amusing any other time). Its reverse cowgirl, at least that's what it starts out as until Peter urges him to lay back against Derek's chest.

It's a position he's never been in, but it's definitely not bad. Like this, he's more bare to be Peter which Stiles likes. Derek's face nuzzles against his shoulder and Stiles sighs as Peter's hand touches down his slick stomach. Stiles is still pleasantly full of Derek's cock and when Peter helps him lift his legs up, arousal twists through him because Peter has a better view and access. One leg is hooked over Peter's shoulder and the other is held up by Peter's hand. A lubed finger plays along his stuffed hole and Stiles is arching and trying to push back.

Then Peter's finger pushes in alongside Derek's dick and Stiles moans, his toes curling as the stretch increases once more. It takes him a few good seconds to process Peter's request and then Stiles is grabbing at Derek's hands and pulling Derek's arms around his abdomen and wrapping his arms over Derek's.

"Good-- it feels good, both of you," Stiles grits out. He squirms, moving a little, encouraging more sensation as his nails dig into Derek's arms. "More, Peter. I want your dick inside me too. Think--think we can work up to it?"

* * *

Stiles is deliciously hot around Peter's finger as he slowly, carefully works it in. A part of it is undoubtedly the transfer of Derek's body heat, which is _quite_ the appealing thought, but Peter doesn't doubt that it also has something to do with the spell that Stiles had found himself the victim of. His temperature is higher, his sweat smells sweeter than usual, and Peter has to bite back a few choice desires of his own, particularly when faced with Stiles' stuffed hole and the desire all but pouring off of him. Still, Peter doubts that Derek would appreciate it were Peter to drop down and lick along where Stiles is stretched so full, but the thought does linger, and Peter makes up for it with the slow, careful press of his finger.

Stiles is Peter's main focus, but he can't pretend that he doesn't notice the tension in Derek's body, or the way that the scent of his nephew's arousal increases at the touch. Peter doesn't draw attention to it, because an irate Derek will only reflect badly on Stiles' experiences in the end, but he does lock it away in the back of his mind like an unexpected bonus. It's not Peter's goal to make Derek uncomfortable, but he'd not expected Derek to be receptive to this particular idea after all his complaining earlier. Amazing how good sex can change someone's mind.

When Stiles' voice cuts through Peter's thoughts, Peter glances up in time to see Stiles moving Derek's arms around him. Peter catches the sight of something gentle and surprised on Derek's face before Derek's arms tighten around Stiles' abdomen, holding him more securely. Peter definitely doesn't mind; he's not blind. But Stiles' voice - his _words_ \- are enough to make Peter go still, and even though he does try to hold it back, his eyes glint bright blue for a second at the _surge_ of arousal that rips through him.

Derek's hold tightens in response, and while Peter's eyes flash, he feels his claws begin to slip out before he wrests control back. Derek's groan buries itself hotly against Stiles' shoulder, and he curses sharply under his breath, his cock all but throbbing from where it lays buried inside of Stiles. The flex of muscle, the press of Peter's finger, the teasing stroke, and now _this?_ He feels a little like he can't breathe, so he's more than pleased when Peter is the one to answer for the both of them.

"Oh, Stiles," Peter says, and his voice is rougher, so close to a growl that it even makes Derek shiver. "Yes. Yes, I think we can work up to that. But you're going to have to let me take my time; I don't want to hurt you, and I know Derek doesn't want to either."

Derek nods against Stiles' shoulder, grateful. God, the way Stiles keeps _squirming_ is going to drive him insane, he's sure. Derek bites at his lip, and he's about to grab at Stiles' hips when he feels a sudden clench around the very base of his cock that is _definitely_ not Stiles' body. He jerks, surprised, and his eyes blink open to stare Peter down incredulously. Retorts come bubbling up, but Peter's hold around Derek's cock tightens, and when Derek feels the sharper edge of arousal beginning to ease a little, he understands. He feels his face heat, feels a squirm of discomfort curl through him, and after a moment, Derek growls and kicks Peter's leg with the side of his ankle.

Peter rolls his eyes and relents, letting go. It doesn't stop him from slowly pressing his finger in deeper, and his free hand comes to Stiles' hips to keep him still. Peter wets his lips.

"Stiles. You're going to have to stop squirming quite so much if you can help it. We don't want Derek to come before we can _both_ fill you up, do we?"

* * *

It's pushing for more - a lot more. The idea of _two_ dicks inside of him? Stiles can barely process it, but he's voiced it, he's asked for it, and both Hales have heard him because of their exceptional hearing (which is both a perk and a nuisance at times).

Stiles knows it's possible. He's looked it up. He's seen it. Porn and the internet are great for sexual liberation and research and now - now when he's under some sex-me-up, sate-me-spell - it's likely a good time to do it. That's his logic and he's sticking to it.

Peter is the first to respond and Stiles doesn't miss the shine of supernatural blue in Peter's eyes. Peter gets like that when he's _really_ feeling something. Derek's arms tighten around him and Stiles loves how securely contained he feels. Despite being on top, his back against Derek's chest and one leg crooked over Peter's shoulder, Stiles feels utterly _safe_. He's got Derek's cock filling him along with Peter's finger and it's so intense right now but Stiles wants - _needs_ \- more.

Peter says _yes_ and the permission has joy singing through Stiles as his eyelids flutter. He doesn't miss the slight admonishment of him being too squirmy. Stiles is huffing in dislike. It's not his fault - well, it actually is that he'd gotten jizzed on by a magical flower, but it's difficult to _not_ move his hips and rock and grind back against what's filling him.

He thinks Peter does something to Derek but in this position, Stiles can't really see much. But Derek jerks and tenses and that seems like an appropriate response toward Peter.

Peter's finger slides in deeper and a hand comes to Stiles' hip to hold him. He doesn't fight it. Stiles is reminded yet again to be still but this time Peter adds on that they don't want Derek to come yet. Right. Makes sense. Stiles tilts his head back to nuzzle against Derek's face as best as he can.

"Don't come yet, I want you both to fuck and fill me," Stiles shakily says, as his hands squeeze Derek's arms reassuringly.

He then directs his gaze at Peter, a glint in his eyes can be seen through the haze of lust. "Well c'mon _daddy_ , stretch me then," Stiles challenges. "Give it to me." He doesn't normally use _daddy_ unless he's being a brat.

* * *

It's not like Derek _wants_ to come so soon, but Stiles isn't really giving him much of a choice in the matter. He's not pleased that Peter had been the one to draw him back from the edge, but right now the thought that he'd had his uncle's hand wrapped around his dick is so far in the back of his mind that he can't really give it much thought. He can feel Peter's finger against his cock too, and that's a little harder to ignore, but it's Stiles who's really testing Derek's patience.

Stiles has always been squirmy, but this is another level entirely. Derek feels each clench around his cock, feels each squirm of Stiles' body, and it doesn't matter how much Stiles tells him not to come yet, Derek just muffles a soft sound against Stiles' shoulder and tries to refocus his efforts on control.

He's not sure if what Stiles says to Peter helps or hinders that goal. Because hearing the word _daddy_ come from Stiles is just so out there that Derek initially blinks incredulously at Stiles, and then immediately looks at Peter, who meets Derek's eyes with a look that's almost daring Derek to say something.

He doesn't; Derek doesn't really know what to say, and it strikes him again that he has no idea what the dynamic is between Stiles and Peter. It's not really any of his business, especially not now. Still, when Derek hears a slight impact and feels the way Stiles clenches around his dick, his focus is thrown back to trying to keep his control in check. He kicks Peter for good measure, because he knows that had been Peter's fault.

Peter, for his part, looks entirely unashamed after the spank he'd lain across Stiles' ass. He glances down, admiring the way that pink immediately flushes to Stiles' skin, but despite the reprimand, the look in Peter's eyes is hot. Bracing himself, he leans slowly over Stiles as he works his finger in deeper, curling it pointedly where he knows will make Stiles' toes curl. Peter leans down, teeth catching at one of Stiles' nipples for a quick bite before he tilts his head up to press a quick kiss just under Stiles' chin.

"You'll get what I give you, _when_ I give it to you, and you know that. Cheeky little brat." Even the admonishment sounds warm and fond. Peter carefully works his finger deeper and gives it a small twist, and as he monitors both Derek _and_ Stiles for signs of discomfort or 'too much', one finger very carefully moves onto two.

Yet despite how badly Peter wants to press in deep, to feel the way Derek trembles and Stiles begins to shake with sensation, he takes even more time. As much as he does want to give Stiles what he wants, he isn't about to hurt him. Besides, he's reasonably sure that Derek wouldn't have been able to handle it. As it is, Peter can scent the growing tension and arousal in his nephew with every inch of Peter's second finger. He sighs.

"Derek, distract yourself. Distract _Stiles_. This will be a lot for him to take," Peter says pointedly, and he's somewhat amused to see the quick spark of embarrassment flicker across Derek's eyes. Derek glares at him half-heartedly, but he doesn't seem inclined to argue.

Instead, tightening his hold on Stiles, Derek lets himself growl softly under his breath. Shuddering, he leans in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Stiles' shoulder, licking at Stiles' skin, and sucking quick, tentative marks against his throat. It does help him to keep control.

* * *

Peter is older than him, old enough for Stiles to joke about Peter being _daddy_ even. Stiles knows that daddy kink exists. There's a lot of kinks that are out there, more than Stiles' curious brain can even want to know of probably. He uses _daddy_ more as a joke, as a playful jab at Peter's age, but Stiles doesn't think of Peter as his dad in any way, shape or form. Stiles loves his dad. He doesn't want to equate anything paternal with Peter but... Stiles can kinda see why the kink exists, logically, because having someone that will care for you, someone that you can rely on - what's so bad about that?

And Stiles does rely on Peter. He knows that Peter has his back, that Peter will wake him up from a nightmare and not feel bothered if Stiles lies and says that he's fine. Peter lets him lie because he knows Stiles doesn't want to talk about things, because talking about riddles and shadows isn't what Stiles needs (because some traumas are just too traumatic to chat about and Peter gets that on a visceral level... Stiles bets that Derek would too).

Peter doesn't let him get stuck in funks and overthink himself into an anxious state. And Peter doesn't always fuck him hard enough that he sometimes blacks out from his orgasms. No, sometimes Peter fucks him slow, so slow that Stiles feels every drag and touch of Peter and it's almost too much to take, almost too much to be connected to someone, but Stiles never falls over the edge. (And Stiles knows it's not _always_ for him, that the almost-tender drawn out sex is for Peter, too, maybe a reminder that Peter can still be gentle and loving).

He also likes that he can be a brat and Peter will give him a spank. It's nothing new, but when it comes, Stiles does clench around the dick and finger that are inside of him. Peter bends over him and Stiles knows that some little reprimand will likely come, but he still loves Peter being closer to him. The bite to his nipple has the flesh hardening and Stiles is basking in each heightened sensation. Peter may not like being rushed, but he likes Stiles' eagerness and demanding nature.

Another finger _is_ pushed in, slowly, carefully and Stiles tries hard to not squirm and clench around it. Stiles still can't imagine having both Derek and Peter's dicks inside of him, but it's the only thing his mind is fixated on at the moment.

The need is throbbing and Stiles closes his eyes as he grasps at the meager amount of patience he has (if any). He focuses on breathing slow and deep as his body stretches. Peter's warning to Derek (if it can be called that), has Stiles snorting.

"You're so bossy in bed," Stiles mutters, but it's nothing but fond because this is the dynamic that Peter and he have. It's only after that Stiles realizes that Derek is likely close to coming and Peter is trying to stave that off.

Derek turning his attention to Stiles' neck has Stiles groaning and stretching out to allow Derek more room to work. Each kiss and brush of tongue or teeth are perfect and Stiles wants Derek's mouth to travel more places, to feel more everywhere. One of Stiles' hands seeks out Derek's and grasps it, their fingers interlacing (he thinks they both could use the support). He blinks his eyes open and searches out Peter's face with a smile on his own.

"I can't wait to feel you inside of me too," Stiles says and licks his lips. "Want you both to fuck me."

* * *

Peter's command works like a charm as Derek turns his attention to Stiles' neck and shoulder. The scent of immediacy begins to fade into something much more manageable, but Peter has the added benefit of watching the way that Stiles reacts to every single new sensation. Peter watches, interested, as Derek makes each new mark along Stiles' throat.

The first one he makes, Derek looks at him, wary, but Peter only lifts an eyebrow as if to ask why Derek had stopped. Peter, for his part, finds the way that Derek looks at him in abject surprise _quite_ satisfying, but then Derek goes back to his task. Bit by bit, the uncertainty in his nephew fades, and when Peter watches the way that Stiles offers himself up for more, Peter's lips tug into a quick smile. Stiles always _has_ been demanding in bed, in his own way.

And as Peter takes his time, so does Derek, albeit in a different way. While Peter's fingers slowly work their way into Stiles' body, and press so damn perfectly against Derek's dick, Derek focuses on the expanse of Stiles' throat. He focuses on the way that Stiles groans and bares more of his throat to Derek's teeth, and the thrill that goes through Derek is maybe counter-productive, but he doesn't care.

Shuddering, Derek focuses all of his attention on Stiles' throat, on the pink scrape of his beard, on the faded marks left behind. So when Stiles reaches down for his hand, when Derek feels Stiles' fingers lace with his own, he's not really ready for how it makes him feel.

It's grounding and it's connection. Derek stills, initially nervous, but one look at his uncle shows nothing but satisfaction when Derek sees Peter's gaze cast down to the hold that Stiles has on Derek's hand. Once more, Derek is caught up in a lurch of confusion, because he doesn't understand how Peter is so okay with this. With someone _else_ touching Stiles, someone else not just fucking him, but holding his hand. But even when Derek breathes in, he doesn't scent any jealousy or anger.

Peter doesn't seem concerned, and Derek doesn't understand. He would be, he thinks, were their positions reversed, but instead of jealousy or concern, Peter only offers Stiles an understanding smile. It's familiar enough that Derek wonders if his noticing it is intruding.

"And we will, sweetheart. Soon. As soon as I'm sure we won't hurt you. But even this feels good, doesn't it?" Peter asks, though he already knows the answer. He turns his head, kissing the side of Stiles' knee still hooked over his shoulder. "I'll bet you feel so full and so pampered between us. If I wasn't sure you'd come from it, I'd use my mouth, but that'll be for later, if you need it."

Two fingers take time, because this is readying Stiles' body for something beyond its normal capacity, but Peter can tell the moment that Stiles needs more, when the need for two becomes the need for three. He indulges without Stiles needing to tell him to do it, and while three _is_ a stretch, the way that Derek holds Stiles' hand tighter, and the way that his nephew kisses Stiles' throat to distract him proves that Derek is working _with_ him on this. On giving Stiles what he wants. Peter meets Derek's eyes with a small smirk of approval, and the way that Derek cautiously nods at him says everything.

* * *

Stiles feels full and pushed to his limit. But no, this can't be his limit. Stiles wants _more_. He needs more. He wants Peter's dick inside of him too. He wants both - Derek's _and_ Peter's dick. Yeah. Nothing sounds better than that. Stiles has never taken two dicks before. He can't even imagine how that would feel, both of them moving inside, both dicks rubbing against each other. He's only got Peter's fingers alongside Derek's cock right now, but the added sensation is amazing.

Stiles can feel Peter's fingers push into him, filling him and stretching him along with Derek's cock. Knowing they're both here, knowing they both want him, it's intoxicating. Stiles basks in Derek's attention, in the kisses and nips given to his skin. Derek's beard scratches. Everything adds up, every little action Derek and Peter take, and Stiles is ravenous for it all.

To Stiles, holding Derek's hand doesn't seem like a weird thing to do. Stiles probably wouldn't do it with a stranger, with that potential third that they'd invite and take home, but Derek isn't a stranger. Derek is his friend. Derek could have been more, too, so maybe Stiles likes skirting that edge and being able to experience Derek a little like this.

Of course Peter doesn't want to hurt him. Stiles gets it, but it's just hard to lay and take it when he knows _more_ is so close. It's so freakin' close, and it doesn't help that Peter just casually mentions sucking him off later (and Peter's mouth is heaven). But Peter is right, Stiles does feel pampered and full (but telling Peter he's right hardly matters).

Stiles' cock is still hot and hard and dripping. Derek holds him tightly, distracting him with attention and as Peter slides another finger inside, Stiles shudders out a groan. This is the most he's had, but it's not the end, not yet. Stiles grips Derek's hand tightly, breathing ragged as he adjusts to the slight burning stretch. It's not painful, but it is a little bit uncomfortable.

"Please - fuck - Peter," Stiles garbles out. "Derek, c'mon..." He's not making any sense, but Stiles feels like he's burning up, the need only climbing higher.

* * *

There is a line between 'close' and 'overstimulated' and as Peter watches the way that Stiles shudders and all but arches against Derek's chest, he knows that that line is blurring. The fact that Stiles is as hard as he is says a lot about the impact of the spell surrounding him, because as on edge as he is, as full and desperate as he is, Peter wouldn't have been surprised if Stiles' cock had begun to soften out of sheer stimulation.

But it doesn't. It stays red and hard, drooling clear precome onto Stiles' abdomen, and Peter resists the urge to lean down and lick it away. He knows that even if Stiles came, he'd be hard again in minutes, but this is a sensitive moment and Peter isn't about to set Stiles off into stimulation that's way too much for him.

Derek is helping. Peter can be grateful for that, even though Peter catches the sight of Derek trembling a little as he holds Stiles tight and marks up the side of his throat and squeezes his hand. Peter can hear the thundering of Derek's heartbeat, can feel the twitching of Derek's cock alongside his fingers, and he silently applauds his nephew's self-control. How long that will last is anyone's guess, but Peter's not going to be picky as Stiles struggles to accept three fingers.

"I know, Stiles. I know. Just a little longer, you can do it," Peter says, his tone lower and coaxing, and warm with praise in a way that draws Derek's confusion. Peter doesn't care. He just leans in and presses a careful kiss to Stiles' chest, mindful not to touch Stiles' cock as he begins to slowly stretch and thrust with his fingers. Though despite his care, Peter can feel the way that Stiles needs, but he can also feel the skip and jump in Derek's pulse as he works. Peter glances up and notes the tighter pinch to Derek's brow as Derek begins to unthinkingly mark up Stiles' throat, but Peter doesn't mind. He just watches and smirks, pleased.

For Derek, it's intense. This whole damn thing has been intense. His mind feels a little like it's been spinning wildly for hours even though he knows that's not quite true. Everything is just so sharp, so immediate, so intense, and Derek feels a little like he's the one struggling to keep his control. And as Peter thrusts with his fingers, as Derek feels the press against his cock and the way that Stiles' body tightens and clenches and envelops him again in sinful perfection, it's all he can do to keep breathing.

Stiles' grip on his hand is the thing keeping him present more than anything. Even as Derek's kisses become clumsy enough to leave hickeys behind, he keeps holding Stiles' hand, keeps squeezing it when Stiles looks like he needs it. He can't do anything else, not without risk of hurting Stiles, but it's difficult to keep his control. Stiles smells so damn _good_ , after all, and Derek can feel his control beginning to fray as time goes on.

So when Derek feels Peter's fingers suddenly slide _out_ what feels like hours later, he blinks his eyes open and looks up. Peter sends him a look that Derek can't quite comprehend, but when Derek feels Stiles squirm against him, he groans and wraps his other arm around Stiles' chest to keep him steady.

"If it's too much, for _either_ of you, I want you to tell me," Peter says, and while he catches Derek's dazed, somewhat-confused, somewhat-annoyed little pinch to his brow, his nephew doesn't argue.

Peter nods, reaching for the lube again, and as he finally bares himself completely, he doesn't skimp on the application. His own cock is throbbing with need, and Peter catches the glimpse that Derek gives him before propriety or some deep-seated uncertainty makes Derek refocus on Stiles, but Peter doesn't care. He'd seen the look, and he can smell Derek's arousal. Derek can't hide from _all_ of his senses.

"All right, Stiles. Focus on me. On us. Deep, slow breaths. I'll be careful," Peter warns as he edges in close enough that Derek needs to lift one of his own legs to make room for Peter's knee under it.

Peter looks down, admiring the sight of Stiles' hole stretched around Derek's cock, slick with lube. He takes his time to line himself up, and while he feels Derek tense, Peter doesn't hear a protest. He's careful when he begins to edge inside, when Stiles' heat and the throbbing pulse of Derek's cock against his send intense sensation all through Peter's body. He shivers, cursing under his breath, and his free hand pets slowly along Stiles' thigh as he works his way inside.

* * *

Stiles has this random thought in the back of his head that maybe, just maybe, nothing will be the same after this. That _is_ a possibility. One possibility. Stiles knows that Peter is going to be fine either way because Peter is the epitome of resilient and the compartmentalizing king (something Stiles actually really admires). Stiles is worried about Derek because Derek is the one who had been suddenly thrust into this crazy threesome scenario. Derek is the one who likely has mixed feelings about each of them too. Stiles is pretty sure both Hales really need to have a sit-down talk and sort out the shit between them... and Stiles can probably facilitate that at the very least. That's something he can do.

Whatever possible consequences, whatever the fall out is, Stiles believes that it's going to be manageable. With everything they've each been through, a witchy magical flower that feeds off sexual energy is hardly going to be the thing that breaks _any_ of them, okay? Nope. No way. Not gonna happen.

Peter's fingers push inside of him, carefully stretching, but Derek's hips don't lift to fuck up into him (which only now strikes Stiles as pretty impressive). Derek's mouth _does_ move, biting and kissing and grounding Stiles. Their hands remain clasped and Stiles moves his head this way and that way to allow Derek more access. Underneath him, Derek's body is hard and warm, a sheen of their shared sweat between them. When Peter's fingers pull out, Peter holds him down, his arm on his torso keeping him still. Stiles' eyes remain glued to Peter, delighting in watching Peter pull out his cock and slick it with lube.

Peter's cock. Derek's cock. They're both going to fuck him. _Finally._ Stiles gives a dazed nod and then focuses on taking deep and slow breaths like Peter had instructed. Stiles doesn't look away as Peter positions his dick. He can't see it, but he can _feel_ it. He grips Derek's hand and as Peter nudges his cockhead inside, a sharp gasp pushing out of Stiles.

And Peter's dick fits too! Each bit of it slides alongside Derek's own cock, opening Stiles more - filling him completely. Fuck, Stiles doesn't think he could take any more. It's so intense, it's so much, Stiles can't even fully process it.

"Oh my god," bursts out of Stiles as he remains perfectly still, like he's almost afraid to move. "Yeah, fuck yeah, this is what I need," Stiles murmurs because it _finally_ feels like _this_ is going to be what sates him.

* * *

Focused life energy - sex. That was what Peter had said. Derek repeats it like a mantra in the back of his head when he feels the hot press of something that can only be Peter's cock against his own. Something inside of him squirms, both in uncertainty and in arousal (and he is not thinking about that. At all.) but he just keeps repeating what Peter had said. It's all that Derek can do as he holds Stiles down and braces himself for what's coming. If he doesn't focus on something else, he's going to come, and he just fucking knows that Peter would never let him live it down if Derek came because of _him_.

So he grips at Stiles and keeps him grounded. He drags in deep breaths of Stiles' scent like it's all that's keeping him sane. He thinks of as many unsexy things as he possibly can, but not even _that_ is enough when he feels the blunt pressure increase and feels the tremble in Stiles' body as it struggles with this.

Maybe he should stop it. He doesn't want to hurt Stiles. But just as the thought occurs, just as he _considers_ asking Peter to back off, Derek feels Stiles' muscles ripple, feels something relax, and then his world is suddenly, sharply narrowed in on _tight_ and _wet_ and _hot_ , and the unmistakable silken press of Peter's cock practically grinding against his. Stiles gasps sharply and Derek bares his teeth with a snarl. Derek's not aware of the hands that suddenly grip his wrists, and he's only distantly aware of the prick of claws against his own palms a few seconds later when Peter shifts again and Derek feels Stiles all but cry out.

Peter just grips Derek's wrists, pinning them down to the bed with a deep furrow to his own brow. He can take control in many ways, but this is a lot even for him. Peter grips Derek's wrists _hard_ , hard enough that the bones grind, but he only hears Derek snarl in response, and it doesn't sound unpleasant. He'd noticed Derek's nails turning into claws and, for Stiles' sake, had made a point to remove that danger from the equation, but Peter can't fault his nephew. This is... intense. It's tight - Stiles is _always_ tight - but the added heat of Derek's cock, the wet, silken slide and grind have even Peter stilling and fighting for control as the three of them adjust.

It's not about a quick fuck. None of them will be able to move much like this, but it's the intensity and the amount of pure sexual energy that should help Stiles. One look at him is all Peter needs before he's suddenly leaning in. He catches Stiles' lips in a kiss, open-mouthed and possessive, and he lets himself swallow down Stiles' tight little sounds and groans of desperation as Stiles' body struggles to adjust. Peter doesn't look to see Derek watching them, but he doesn't need to. He can feel his nephew's pulse quicken as Peter slowly - _ever_ so slowly - presses in deeper, feeling Stiles' hole all but lock around them both in a way that proves he's at his limit.

Derek just gapes, hands curling into fists as he watches, eyes glinting blue. Even struggling to maintain his control, he doesn't jerk his hips up, though, despite how badly he wants to.

Instead he just growls out, "Jesus... _fuck..."_ and struggles to remain in control.

* * *

It's almost too much. Stiles almost feels too full and too stretched, but he's not tapping out of this. It _finally_ feels like this might be enough. This should be enough (god, he hopes it is). The realization that he's got both Derek and Peter's dicks inside of him feels like he should give a whoop of victory, but now isn't the time. Derek is underneath him, but inside of him. Peter is over him and also inside of him. He's a delicious Hale sandwich and it's blissful.

Stiles isn't immediately aware of the exchange between Derek and Peter. It's hard to focus on much else given that he has two dicks inside of him and it's fucking intense, okay. He sort of gets the idea of what's going on when Derek's arms are wrenched away. Stiles glances to the side and sees that Peter is pinning Derek's wrists to the bed.

It hits Stiles then that maybe Derek's claws had been coming out. Peter hadn't wanted him to be accidentally scratched. While right now the thought of claws would add a thrill, given Derek's history with Jackson and Derek's reaction to when he'd learned of what Peter and he shared with Peter biting his thigh, Stiles figures that accidentally clawing likely wouldn't go over well.

Stiles kisses Peter back - or he tries to because Stiles isn't very co-ordinated right now. He breathes quick and Stiles' hands reach up and he touches Peter's arms, his nails dragging along softly. He loves that Peter is over him and edging his way inside. It almost hurts, but anything negative simply translates as sharp and intense, instead of painful or bad. Stiles' eyes are hazy with desire, but bright as he gazes up at Peter.

It's Stiles who tries to push down and then jerk up, to mimic fucking. He knows, god he knows, that being careful is super important, but crazy flower magic demands more and so, too, does Stiles.

"C'mon, both of you, give it to me," Stiles pleads, taking it upon himself to squirm in defiance. Peter must let go of Derek's wrists because lightening quick Derek's arms are once again wrapping around him to hold him still.

* * *

It's an effort to stay still, but even with his control flickering in and out, Derek manages to keep himself in check. Peter's hands on his wrists help, and Derek doesn't want to admit it. It's still weird to think that he can feel Peter's dick against his own, and even weirder that it feels _good_ , but Derek's thoughts of protest are so weak compared to the rest of his body singing with sensation. Part of him is struggling to keep control while the other part of him is trying not to come, and it's a battle that he wonders if he'll even manage to win in the end.

But Peter's grip on his wrists is grounding in a way that Derek can't help but be grateful for. Peter squeezes just enough to hurt, and it centers Derek's focus in on the contact and not on how damn _tight_ Stiles is. Well... not entirely at least. And, bit by bit, though it takes him colossal effort, Derek's eyes fade back to their normal hazel and he forces his claws back in. It takes time, and Derek can feel Peter looking at him, but Derek doesn't return the look. He can't. He's too focused on Stiles, and on how this feels like it's _changing_ things.

Then Stiles moves, and Derek draws in a sudden, ragged breath. Peter must be on the same page, because just like that Derek's wrists are free and he reaches down to grab Stiles around the waist. He pins Stiles to his chest, shuddering, his teeth pressing against Stiles' shoulder as he mutters hissed curses, but he manages to keep Stiles still. Derek distantly hears Peter tut past a roaring in his ears, but it's faint. Derek's cock throbs and it takes a moment for him to recover.

Peter isn't _quite_ as far gone, though he does reach up with one hand and cup Stiles' cheek as Derek grabs Stiles around the waist. There's a moment in which Peter looks at Stiles, drinking in the sight of his desperation, his pleading, and then he leans in and places a chaste kiss against Stiles' lips.

"We'll give you what we want to," he murmurs, low, with a roughness in his voice that somehow manages to sound soothing and controlling. "Hold onto me, Stiles. Dig your nails in. Get all that energy out without hurting yourself and we'll give you what you want."

Peter leans in again, and as he noses at Stiles' jaw, he murmurs a soft, "hold him tight," to Derek, who nods, and then Peter braces himself over them both and slowly draws his hips back. He doesn't trust Derek's control to lead this, and it makes more sense for it to be him.

So, while Peter doesn't thrust hard, while he doesn't do what the spell is undoubtedly telling Stiles that he _needs_ , Peter does begin to slowly rock his hips, shuddering at the intensity, but more so at the sound that Derek makes when Peter's cock drags against his. Derek sounds wounded, and Stiles isn't much better. It's perfect.

* * *

Stiles can't really be aware of everything going on in between Peter and Derek. He can't imagine being in either of their positions. Uncle, nephew, boyfriend, a once-upon-a-time crush. Yeah, it's a little complicated. Stiles barely can comprehend that this is actually happening at all. Because Stiles has always felt like he's been pretty open sex-wise, but he's never thought about _this_.

This is him spread so open, being filled so perfectly, two hot and hard dicks rubbing against each other and stuffing him and it's intense, okay. That's really the only word for it, but not even that seems appropriate. Stiles is still hard and leaking, his body almost feverish and sweaty, but taut with arousal and hunger. Derek's arms around him are tight and vice-like and Stiles is unable to fuck himself back on their dicks.

Needless to say it's frustrating, but Peter's hand coming to his face and then a kiss helps Stiles relax a little. He does trust Peter. He just needs to let go and actually trust Peter and Derek right _now_.

So Stiles does as Peter's instructed, trembling hands lifting to grasp onto Peter's shoulders and he scratches hard, knowing that Peter can take it. And it helps. It actually helps. Peter is usually good at that. Knowing what will help. It's no different here. Stiles stops struggling and he trusts that Peter and Derek are going to have him. He hasn't exploded or imploded from lust yet, so yeah, that's good. He's going to be fine.

It gets better than fine when Peter finally moves, pulling back before edging back in. Stiles' nails dig into Peter's shoulders as he feels Peter experimentally feel him like this, thrusting carefully, his dick nudging and stretching him. Stiles shudders, moaning out pleas and fighting with himself to not wiggle. Stiles is certain he couldn't take any more than this. Nothing more could fit inside of him. The lube and thorough preparation has him able to do this and Stiles is sure he'll be sore after, but he's not sore right now (at least not by much).

"Both-- both of you, please," Stiles gasps weakly, body vibrating with need. "'m close, I need it."

And amazingly, finally, fucking _finally_ , Stiles feels Derek shift too. It's a small movement as Derek flexes his hips up and his cock shifts in just a bit more before his hips lower. The pace is stilted and awkward but eventually Derek finds a slow, measured rhythm and Stiles toes' are curling as both Peter and Derek fuck into him.

Through it all, Derek holds him still and Peter's body is over top, warm and familiar as he leads all of them in this.

* * *

The distress of need in Stiles' eyes is almost enough to make Peter break his own rules, but he remains steadfast as he leads this charge. Slow, ever so slow, Peter rocks into Stiles, assessing him for any overt pain, for pleasure to turn to discomfort, but despite the racing of Stiles' pulse and the stress etched across his expression, Peter scents only a deep, pounding lust that keeps stoking his own higher.

He doesn't need to look at Derek to see that his nephew is in the same boat. Stiles seems able to take it, and as pinprick bites of pain erupt over Peter's shoulders as Stiles digs his nails in, he becomes a little bolder, his thrusts picking up a little speed, and he can _feel_ the response as Stiles' muscles flex and twitch around his cock.

Derek curses under them, and Peter spares his nephew a look - his eyes dark, lips parted, a flush to his skin, and his grip on Stiles just as tight as it had been before. It must be maddening to him as well, but Peter isn't taking chances with Stiles. If this was Derek, or even himself, Peter wouldn't care as much; _they_ can heal on a dime, but Stiles? Stiles is different.

But it doesn't make it less intense as Peter builds up into a rhythm that has Stiles gasping and begging. The words streak through him like fire, and while he wants to warn Derek not to be reckless, he can't blame his nephew when Derek finally shudders, bites out a low, rough groan, and hitches his hips forwards. It adds an additional burst of sensation, and while Peter wants to warn him to be careful, it quickly becomes apparent that he doesn't need to.

Because Derek doesn't _want_ to hurt Stiles. Even with toe-curling pleasure all but grinding through his veins, he keeps scenting Stiles for signs of overt distress. Derek can't help but roll his hips when Stiles begins to beg; he sounds so damn _sweet_ , so desperate, and while he doesn't snap his hips like he wants to, he does begin to grind up, and it doesn't take long for Derek to find a sort of counterpoint with Peter.

Derek doesn't struggle to take the lead; he feels so goddamn close right now that even _he_ doesn't trust himself, but it doesn't matter, because Stiles is so damn hot and wet and tight and perfect. His hand twitches on Stiles' abdomen, and when Peter growls his permission (which sends an odd thrill through Derek), he tentatively touches Stiles' cock.

Derek doesn't jerk him off, but he does run his fingers over the underside, aware that Stiles is likely so sensitive that this could be too much if Derek isn't careful. But he has to do _something_ as Peter's thrusts begin to pick up speed. He's still careful, but each one is _more_ , and Derek curses brokenly into Stiles' shoulder, his beard scratching the skin all but raw as he kisses it and scrapes his teeth over it. He grinds his hips up, riding that edge of desperation, but he knows that it's almost too much. He knows he _can't_ last, and the thought is enough to make him groan, tight and desperate.

" _Fuck_ , S-Stiles... I don't think I--"

"You're allowed," Peter cuts in, his voice slightly hissed as he changes his angle. Derek's expression pinches with pleasure, feeling the tightness of Stiles' body around him as well as the grind of Peter's cock against his own. Peter just looks pleased despite the strain of building pleasure in his own eyes. "You're _both_ allowed. We'll take care of you, Stiles. Derek's going to fill you up."

Just the _thought_ is enough to get pleasure sparking through Derek's body. He grinds out a curse, tight, desperate, and shattered, and while he does _try_ to hold back, while he doesn't want to let this slip through his fingers, it's too much. Stiles is too tight, too hot, too fucking _perfect_ around him, and his thrusts begin to stutter, desperation winning out over everything else as pleasure suddenly crashes over him in a wave. He cries out roughly into Stiles' shoulder and shoots hot inside of him, his cock pulsing against Peter's and the added slick immediately easing the way as Peter's pace increases, undoubtedly looking to push Stiles those last few inches over the edge.

* * *

It's intense and there's not really a better word for it. Two dicks are sliding into him and they're not tiny dicks, by any means either. Stiles feels like he's burning up in liquid heat and sensation as pleasure suffuses every part of his body. Derek has him and Peter has him, and this is what Stiles wants. This is everything he needs. It feels like waves crashing over a rocky shore, roaring and demanding and Stiles doesn't have to fight it. He doesn't have to fight anything, he lets himself fall.

Both Derek and Peter are here for him, grinding in deep and stretching him so fucking open. Derek's fingers touch along his cock and it sends frissons of sensation through Stiles. Derek sounds beautifully wrecked, cursing and kissing at Stiles' shoulder, leaving the skin reddened from the attention.

When Peter gives Derek _permission_ to come, Stiles can't help but grin weakly because it's kind of _really_ hot having Peter take control and lead them all through this. And Stiles doesn't look away from Peter. His nails dig into Peter's arms as both dicks move inside of him. It becomes pretty obvious when Derek is close because Derek's thrusts turn more erratic and Stiles knows what's going to happen next.

Derek is gonna come inside of him and do just what Peter's said - fill him up. Stiles thinks he nods but does it even matter? Derek is going to come either way. And Derek does. The sound that accompanies with it is fucking hot, too. Stiles feels a gush of wetness and he's groaning out his praise because this is what he wants. He _wants_ \- no, _needs_ \- Derek to come and fill him up. Stiles' own desperation has his hole twitching, as if attempting to milk Derek more (and push Peter over, too).

It's only when Peter starts thrusting faster that Stiles knows he's going to come too, everything feels sharp and blurry somehow. "Yes, fuck yes, 'm close," Stiles whines. "Please, _please_ \--"

And Peter doesn't stop, Peter continues fucking into his wet, used hole until Stiles is jerking and crying out as his orgasm tears through him.

* * *

Control can only last so long, and with Stiles desperate and shaking and full of need as Derek comes inside of him, Peter knows that his own control has an end in sight. Watching Derek fall apart and cling to Stiles is one thing, but watching the way that Stiles arches against him, greedy for it, is another. Stiles' desperation practically thickens the air around him and Peter doesn't have to pretend that he's affected by the sight of it, because he is. Stiles looks wild and desperate and Peter clenches his teeth tightly together, because the urge to sink his fangs into Stiles' skin and claim him all over again is pressing, but not smart.

Instead, he takes over, distantly mindful of Derek hissing sharply at the sudden added sensation of Peter's cock grinding against his spent one, but as Stiles grabs at him and begins to beg, Peter's focus narrows in on him. He hisses a breath out between his teeth as Stiles' sounds climb higher, as he clutches at Peter with greater desperation, and Peter fucks him hard with a singular focus. Peter doesn't need to try hard because Stiles is so close, and when he feels Stiles' muscles suddenly clamp down in involuntary twitches, Peter growls low in his throat and bends down.

He kisses Stiles' throat instead of biting it, and feels Stiles jerk and twitch as he comes hard between them. Peter holds on just long enough to feel the exquisite tightness around his cock, and then he groans deep and low in his throat as he snaps his hips forward, fucking Stiles through his orgasm and shuddering as Peter fills him up as well. It's hot and wet and filthy, and it's perfect because of it.

Which is a notion that Derek can also agree with, though he watches with a sort of dazed, breathless awe. His mind feels like it's full of cotton, aftershocks of sensitivity shooting through him, and as he watches Peter's expression pinch in pleasure, and as his ears ring with Stiles' cry, all Derek can do is slide his hands to Stiles' hips and stroke along his skin. Derek touches him, soothing, on autopilot, pressing his face into the crook of Stiles' neck opposite Peter. He shudders, cursing softly under his breath, and keeps touching, distantly aware that intensity of this level can be a little too much to handle.

He doesn't even realize that he's apparently doing something right until Peter murmurs a soft, "good, Derek," under his breath, and Derek doesn't know how to feel about that.

He doesn't know how long the three of them lay there, sweaty and warm, pressed together, Stiles dripping their come onto his bedsheets (Derek doesn't think the smell will ever come out). But it's Peter who is the first to really say anything. Derek watches as his uncle draws back, and one of Peter's hands comes up to smooth Stiles' bangs out of his eyes, and it looks _tender_ in a way that makes Derek's stomach clench. Peter doesn't seem to notice him looking.

"How do you feel, Stiles? Was that enough?" Peter asks, and Derek remembers the goddamned _flower_ , and inwardly kicks himself for having forgotten.

* * *

It's the best fucking orgasm that's ever been wrenched out of Stiles. He shakes. He's loud. He knows he is. Stiles thinks he might actually be crying (which is kind of weird, but whatever). Peter's mouth is on his throat and Stiles shifts his head back, bearing it willingly. It's then that a strange thought streaks through his head: he thinks of Peter biting and ripping his throat out with his fangs, but it doesn't scare Stiles. Delusional with pleasure, Stiles thinks that he'd let Peter do that if Peter wanted to.

But Peter would _never_ do that to him. Peter loves him. And he loves Peter. And Peter's hips snap forward, his cock plunging in deep, lube and come mixing as Peter fucks him through his own orgasm.

When Peter finally comes, Stiles' is left winded and shaking, his hands falling away from Peter's shoulders, fingernails no longer digging in. Stiles can feel Derek soothing him, his hands touching and his mouth kissing whatever skin he can reach. It's pretty nice, actually.

Stiles pants, feeling strung out and finally - blissfully - _satisfied_. That realization alone causes so much relief to crash over him and if he wasn't tearing up a little before, he would be at this. Stiles' throat is dry and sore, but it's not a big deal. He's no longer feeling like some sex-frenzied imp, he's no longer antsy and upset - that's the important thing. It's really good. He's missed feeling _normal._

Two dicks. Yeah, that's a lot. But it worked.

They did it. Together.

"Yeah," Stiles murmurs, breathless and spent, but finally _sated_. "I'm good. I'm great. Thanks."

Is it weird to thank them? Maybe, but Stiles thinks all of them are a little weird anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, like the story? Please consider supporting/encouraging us by leaving a comment or reblogging the story [here](https://merrythought.tumblr.com/post/185784900518)! Thanks :)


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